


For the Camera

by Noon30ish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (Fake) Daddy Kink, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, BDSM, Ballet AU, Falling In Love, Light BDSM, M/M, Mutual Pining, On Hiatus, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romantic Filth, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Porn, Threesome - M/M/M, Vicchan Lives, pornstar AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 142,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10206422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noon30ish/pseuds/Noon30ish
Summary: In which Yuuri becomes a pornstar and is 'training' under the one and only, the Living Legend, Vitya.Or the fic where, for Yuuri, sex comes first and love comes after.ON HIATUS. DO NOT HOPE FOR AN UPDATE, YOU'LL BE DISAPPOINTED.





	1. Beginner's Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [For the Camera](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822509) by [mommy_Vulture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mommy_Vulture/pseuds/mommy_Vulture)
  * Inspired by [it wasn't supposed to be like this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849512) by [jellydonut16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellydonut16/pseuds/jellydonut16). 



> ON HIATUS. MOST LIKELY WILL NEVER BE FINISHED. AUTHOR HOLDING ONTO VAIN HOPE THAT THEY'LL MAGICALLY ENJOY WRITING AGAIN AND NOT DELETING BECAUSE THEY'RE A COWARD WHO DOESN'T WANT TO DELETE THE EGO-BOOSTING STATISTICS. DO NOT BOTHER READING BECAUSE THERE ARE NO REDEEMING SCENES IN THIS FIC. GOODBYE.

Yuuri crinkled the paper with the written address in his hands, his fingers curling into fists and uncurling in an attempt to feel less awkward about this. Phichit, his long-time best friend, had given it to him without hesitation when Yuuri complained about being without a job for so long. Paying rent had been getting tough. Being absolutely desperate, Yuuri supposed this was a better alternative to the strip club where he’d last worked. At least here, there wouldn’t be dozens of eyes ogling him on a stage.

Just a couple cameras instead.

The building was just like any other on this street, plain white siding and windows with black shutters, gold-plated numbers with the address above the door frame, too.  _ SV Studios _ in flowy cursive swung from a wrought iron sign above him, the only indication that he was in the right place. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Yuuri reached for the latch and opened the door.

There wasn’t any ringing bells like other business doors, but none was necessary. There was a blond boy sitting at the reception desk, a grimace on his face as he kept his eyes glued to his phone. The interior was modern, the marble countertops looking a little too classy for what the place really was.

Yuuri walked all the way up to the counter and still hadn’t been acknowledged by the receptionist. He bit his lip, tapping his finger against the slip of paper still tight in his grasp. “Um—”

“You’ve got the wrong address,” the boy grumbled through a thick accent, not bothering to look up, “the DMV’s next door.”

Yuuri wondered how many times people had come in here with that question in mind. It must have been an embarrassingly high number. “I’m not looking for the DMV—” he started, but gulped when the boy finally looked at him.

He couldn’t have been any older than sixteen at best. His hair fell to his shoulders and over his green eyes. Eyes that were piercing daggers into Yuuri. “We’re not hiring.”

“I-I was told by Phichit to come by,” Yuuri explained, “he said you guys were…”

Phichit had worked here for a solid year now, and apparently he was well liked, otherwise Yuuri wasn’t sure how Phichit had managed to get him hired by word-of-mouth. The blond boy must have realized this, because he set his phone down and began typing on the computer next to him. 

“Your name?”

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he replied in a small voice.

“We don’t need your last name,” the boy paused, typing up a few more things and frowning, “and we can’t have two people with the same name in the registrar.”

“Two…?” Yuuri’s brows furrowed.

The boy gestured to his nametag, which Yuuri hadn’t noticed until now. It read  _ Yuri _ in simple block lettering. 

Yuuri gaped. “Y-you work… here…?”

Yuri sneered. “Not like that, dumbass. I won’t be eighteen for another couple years. I just run the front. And like hell I’d want to watch what goes on back there.”

Yuuri felt the color rise to his cheeks, both from embarrassment and from the images about to come to mind. He swallowed. “You can spell my name with two u’s.”

Yuri nodded, filling it in. “Age?”

“Twenty-three,” Yuuri answered. This part was going better. Just some simple questions for them to be able to place him somewhere, to know a little about him before they started talking. Which was fine, because really, anything to make him feel a little more comfortable about the situation would be appreciated.

More typing. Some clicking. “Preferences?”

Yuuri practically choked on his own thoughts as if he’d spoken them. “Excuse me?”

Yuri glanced up from the screen, eyeing Yuuri with a muted, stupefied expression. Like  _ he _ was the older one in the situation. “Women, men, both?” Yuri clarified.

Did they really want him saying this sort of stuff to a teenager? It sent a weird chill down his spine and he wondered if Phichit had been pulling a prank on him all along. Because he was never going to forgive him if that happened to be the case. “Um, men?”

“Top, bottom, or solo?” Yuri fired back immediately, having already typed the answer to the previous question.

Yuuri had to think it over, partially because he had to think how often he had done either, but also because he was trying to keep the prickling unease underneath the surface. “Either. Any. Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

“Versatile,” Yuri commented, but there was no emotion behind it. Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a joke. “You have time to meet with Yakov right now?”

He must be talking about the head of the studio. Well, it wasn’t like Yuuri had a job to go to anytime soon. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Yuri nodded, typing some final things and pressing enter. He then dialed a few digits and picked up the receiver. “Yakov? We’ve got that other Yuuri here. Yeah, the one Phichit talked up the other day… should I send him in? … A little bit, yeah… Okay… Send him out if that works best, I don’t care… Yeah, yeah, old man. Don’t get so wound up,” he added as he hung up rather unprofessionally. Yuuri shuffled in place, the gut feeling weighing him down.

“You can wait just inside that door. There are some chairs by the first studio. Just try not to listen to closely, da?” Yuri waved him toward the door behind the counter.

In that moment, Yuuri seriously considered bolting back out onto the street and heading home. He considered groveling to his old boss to let him dance on stage again. But that thought was immediately rejected because Yuuri could practically feel the unwanted hands reaching for his legs, his waist, all over again. Sucking in a breath, he followed Yuri’s instructions. What was the worst that could happen?

As soon as Yuuri found an empty chair and sat down, he found out exactly how bad it could get. He was in a waiting area of sorts, although there were doors lining one wall with lights above them, some of them lit, some were not. Just numbers like in academic buildings were written over the front, like 101, 102, 103, and so forth, until 106 that was at the far back of a hallway that went to the back of the building. The area itself was dark, with deep purple walls and satin black trim, the chairs matching meticulously. There were a few magazines in a holder, but when Yuuri peeked at them, he decided it was for the best if he pretended that they didn’t exist.

But that wasn’t the worst, no. The worst was the red light signalling that room 102 was in use, straight across from him. And, in the relative silence apart from an AC unit, Yuuri could hear a light slap. Then another. It was steady, tapping a beat to some music that Yuuri couldn’t hear. He could pretend that it was just the residuals of a low bass line seeping through the door crack.

He couldn’t, however, block out the long, low,  _ needy _ moans that accompanied that bass line. As he sat there, the heat from his face flushed down his neck to his chest, hitting his lungs before increasing in intensity as it pooled in his stomach. There was another moan, shorter, from someone else, and some hushed words that were paired with a harder, more definitive  _ smack _ . That in turn produced another one of those moans that lilted through the air like a sweet aria. To his horror, it sounded eerily familiar.

Yuuri had long since taken off his jacket and set it on his lap, putting more pressure than necessary on his lower gut to stave off his reaction. It came to him as a surprise that, once the noises collapsed from a crescendo, he only sported a half hard-on. 

Then the light over the door turned off and a lock clicked. Yuuri sat rod-straight, keeping his eyes everywhere but the door as it opened to reveal two people walking out in robes.

His strategy didn’t last, however. “Chris, I swear, that is the last time I let you top for the next month. I almost broke character—”

The man that spoke had silver hair, half plastered to his forehead with sweat and half ruffled into sexual oblivion. His eyes were lidded, but no one in a fifty mile radius could mistake those mosaics of sea glass for  _ anyone else _ .

Yuuri was facing the world’s most watched, most celebrated adult movie star in the world, Vitya the Living Legend. Someone that he would never admit, in a million years, he chose as a go-to in his, er, free time.

And he was being stared at by said man.

(And he sort of liked that.)

“Oh, are you the new guy?” he asked, tilting his head as some of his bangs fell away. “I didn’t think you’d be starting so soon. What’s the name?” He winked.

“I-um, Y-Yuuri,” Yuuri answered, but couldn’t make himself look him in the eye.

“Umyuri?” Vitya tilted his head. “Is that foreign?”

“N-no. It’s ‘Yuuri,’ with… uh, two u’s,” he explained again, his mind not working well enough to say anything more substantial because there was a literal sex god standing right in front of him. Needless to say, he short-circuited.

Viktor chuckled at him. “I see. I’ll just have to change Yuri’s name, then. I think it’s about time we bring his old nickname back, anyway.”

“Do you want to get punched again?” the man named Chris put his arm on Viktor’s shoulder. “He hates that name.”

“Yurio will be fine,” Vitya insisted, taking Chris’s arm off of him, “besides, he wouldn’t dare hit my face before I have to be on camera.”

“They’re filming your dick not your face,” Chris jabbed immediately.

Vitya gasped. “You wound me.”

They talked for all the world like they were just people with regular jobs. Yuuri kept his head down in silence until another door opened and he reflexively looked in that direction. Anywhere but at the half naked man standing not even two feet from him, smelling distinctly of heady, spent musk.

“Yakov!” Vitya greeted the middle-aged man with a balding hairline. “Chris says the audience only looks at my dick!”

“That’s the point of what we do here, Vitya,” Yakov sighed, clearly not fazed by his outburst. He glanced at Yuuri. “Yuuri, I presume? Come on back, we’ve just got to do some standard procedures.”

“Good luck, Yuuri!” Vitya sing-songed with a characteristic grin Yuuri had  _ definitely _ seen before.

Yuuri got up, keeping his jacket pressed to his front, and followed Yakov into a room that was off  to the left, separate from the other rooms. He had the unsettled feeling of curious eyes at his back, so he hunched his shoulders and attempted to shrink away as he left the room.

Yakov waved him to a seat opposite his desk and then took his own. Without precursor, he began what felt like an interrogation. “Have you worked in the business before?”

Yuuri was taken aback, to say the least. “Um, no, I haven’t, sir. B-but I did work at a strip club a few months ago.”

“Mhm. You can call me ‘Yakov,’” Yakov waved in dismissal as he seemed to take a mental note of something before turning to a pad of paper to write it down, “you’re aware what you’re getting into here, right?”

“Phichit said it could be temporary until I find another job,” Yuuri started, “but, um, I don’t— I can stay as long as you need me.” If this were an interview, Yuuri would have already kicked himself in frustration.

“Phichit,” Yakov said, pausing to think, “he’s a good kid. Knows what he’s doing. I can pair you with him to start with, should that put you more at ease. Just don’t go developing feelings for him, or anyone else here. We deal with sex, not romanticism.”

An image of his roommate and him, one of them bent over some prop or set piece, doing obscene things invaded his brain and he had to physically shake his head. “No, nonono,” he said hastily. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant, per se, but he lived with the guy. It might get weird until he was used to it here, if that ever actually happened. “Ah, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Yakov’s stare didn’t lessen. “We’ll start you off solo, then. Everyone here does them at some point, depending on their fanbase. Either way, we’ll still need your medical paperwork. Were you cleared by a physician recently?”

Yuuri nodded, a bit more at ease knowing that he wouldn’t have to do these things with someone at first. “I got tested last month.”

“Good, good,” Yakov commented, scribbling something onto the notepad, “you can get that to us whenever, but we don’t need it to start filming any solo stuff. Now, have you used toys before?”

If there had been any relaxed atmosphere in the room, it had dissipated. Yuuri wasn’t sure how much he should really be talking about this stuff to Yakov, essentially a stranger, but also possibly his boss. That thought was weird. “A— a few times,” he admitted.

What he didn’t admit to, naturally, was the range of toys, from the vibrators to the dildos to the clamps and gloves he occasionally indulged himself in, occasionally all at once.  _ No one _ needed to hear about those.

Yakov didn’t seem to have that barrier, because the next question had been about the type of toys. Yuuri answered reluctantly, leaving out the more obscene ones. Yakov insisted that there was no judgment here, and that Yuuri could answer truthfully. It was then that he conceded to his other secrets, although he was no less at ease than earlier. Yakov had this rough aura about him, one that was hard to work with, firm but not entirely hostile.

The questions continued, ranging from mild ones like his refractory period and gag reflex all the way to the stuff that Yuuri swore steamed up his glasses, like how much he could prepare himself beforehand or what types of BDSM he was comfortable with. Nothing too intense, he’d answered, but he was willing to try, as with most of the ideas on the list. Apparently there were  _ a lot  _ of things that people on the internet were into. Not entirely surprising, but Yuuri hadn’t even heard of some of these, let alone known what they actually entailed. He decided not to ask, though, since many of them weren’t used in solo runs.

“You said you used to work at a strip club,” Yakov mentioned, tapping a pencil against his pad of paper, “do you pole dance?”

Yuuri nodded. “I took classes in college.”

“Your major didn’t work out for you?” Yakov’s tone was ambiguous.

“I majored in dance,” Yuuri answered slowly, thinking that he should have felt offended. It wasn’t that he turned to working at a strip club as his main choice, but it wasn’t like he didn’t get work in his field either, technically. Besides, poledancing kept him in shape and the money had been incredible most nights. If he hadn’t been fired for kicking a patron that tried to grope his ass, he’d probably still be working there.

If Yuuri believed that the conversation was going to go any further than that, he was disappointed. Yakov seemed to see right through Yuuri’s weak composure. Yuuri couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, fidgeting in his seat, and he swore that he was beginning to perspire.

“How about drinking?” Yakov raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I don’t drink much,” Yuuri answered quickly, then thought about it. “B-but if you need me to for a piece, it, um, doesn’t bother me.”

“I meant more for your nerves,” Yakov gestured to him, and that was when Yuuri realized that his legs were shaking as well, rubbing against his seat anxiously. He made a conscious effort to quell the motions. “We don’t mind letting our workers drink for solos. They just have to be able to finish.”

Well, if it was just to take the edge off, Yuuri figured it wouldn’t be a half-bad idea. “Okay.”

Yakov scribbled some more things onto the notepad, turning to another new page. What had it been, four pages already? What kind of notes was he taking? Yuuri twiddled his fingers as the silence drew on. He could use a drink right now, if he were honest.

“Would it be alright to do a test recording today?”

That got a shiver running down Yuri’s spine. “Y-you mean, right now?”

Yakov nodded, phoning a number and hanging up. “I can have Phichit give you a rundown of the place and set you up in a room. Tell him to let Mila film you. She’s easy on beginners.”

Yuuri blanched. “Someone will be watching?”

“Mila’s an actress that works here as a camera operator as well. Keeps everything running smoothly, offers direction. She’ll be nice, don’t worry.”

Before Yuuri could answer, Yakov’s door opened and a familiar face walked in.

“Yuuri! You came!” Phichit ran over to Yuuri and hugged him tightly, ignoring the awkward angle resulting from one of them still being seated. Yuuri was stiff for a moment before he let himself hug back, breathing in the calming cologne his friend always wore. His nerves were abated for a brief second, and that would have to be enough. “I’m so glad! When are you starting?”

“We’re doing a test recording today,” Yakov answered for him, “just a standard room. Alright?”

“Gotcha, boss,” Phichit flashed a bright smile and took Yuuri’s hand. “C’mon, Yuuri. Lemme show you around!”

Yuuri was tugged and dragged around the whole building without any time to catch his breath. It was just like Phichit, but Yuuri wished his friend would slow down. From what he gathered, still trying to catch his brain up to the present, there were three floors worth of rooms. Most were standard sets, with couches or kitchens or just plain beds. Several on the ground floor had more intriguing settings, like a hot tub or an office setting, and others were empty to be set up to certain specifications for other scenes. Each of these rooms also had doors that connected them altogether in case they were filming something with multiple scenes. 

There was a break room off to the other side for each floor where some food and water was placed out every day, completely free. There were also two sets of bathrooms, one for filming in and the other for actually cleaning oneself. Apparently the difference was in the size and the quality of the environments, as well as the fact that one bathroom for each floor had other things attached to the walls than just showerheads. Phichit insisted that they were all cleaned with the utmost care.

Yuuri just tried not to think about what was done to them that required such cleaning.

When they finally stopped in front of room 202, Phichit let go of his hand. “This is the room we’ll start you in today, okay?”

Once they were inside, Yuuri saw that it looked just like a regular bedroom, with a queen-sized bed and plush sheets and pillows layered in the middle. The sight calmed him a little, enough so that his heart could beat a bit slower.

There was something he’d been meaning to ask his best friend, though. If he could really call him that right now. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked with Vitya the Living Legend?”

Phichit was going about the room, adjusting the lights and bringing out a large camera to position in front of the bed. He paused after nodding at the camera, satisfied with its placement. “I don’t really work  _ with _ him. We’re just part of the same studio. I’ve never actually been in a scene with him or anything. I’ve heard he doesn’t do too many scenes with other people.”

Yuuri frowned. Who was that Chris guy that he’d seen Vitya with, then? Was he an exception? Yuuri pondered for a moment if  _ he _ could ever be an exception. The idea excited him, much to his embarrassment. 

A redhead burst into the room, acting for all the world like the female version of his friend. “Phichit! I was told we’ve got a new guy. Why didn’t anyone tell me? I had to go find out from Yakov that I get to film him. You’re so mean!”

She had dark blue eyes that sparkled the second her sights landed on Yuuri. “Oh, he’s cute! I’m sure he’ll have a bunch of fans in no time!” She ran over to him and draped her arms around him affectionately. “How are you, hun? What’s your name?”

Yuuri stuttered, so Phichit picked up the slack. “This is Yuuri, my friend I talked about. He gets a little nervous in front of people when he performs, though. Did Yakov send up the champagne yet?”

“Another Yuuri? That’ll just get confusing,” Mila pouted. “I’ll go grab the bottles. Are you joining him?”

“For the drinks, not the filming,” Phichit answered, much to Yuuri’s surprise. He wasn’t sure if that was even allowed, but he wasn’t about to ask. Anything to make this more manageable, he’d take it.

And take it he did. Mila popped the cork and poured a flute with some of the bubbly liquid, handing it to Yuuri, then another to Phichit. As the drinking started, Mila started giving Yuuri some pointers. Namely, to keep the important bits poised at the camera at all times with the least obstructed view possible. Still not ready to really to fully comply, Yuuri downed the flute and asked for another. Phichit was more than helpful, drinking alongside him, telling him all the things that were supposed to calm him down. Yuuri wasn’t sure whether it was the increasing amount of alcohol or Phichit’s reassurances that were making him more open to the idea of what he was about to do. 

“Just make sure you’re a bit louder than you are on your own,” Phichit added with a hiccup, “the mic’s gonna pick it up either way, but you gotta, you know, play it up for the camera.”

Yuuri’s drunk laughter was rich. His jacket had fallen to the floor some time ago and he had his button up most of the way unbuttoned. There was a flush of the sunset on his cheeks. “How do you know what I sound like, Phichit?” He asked accusingly as he downed another glass and started leaning onto his friend a little too heavily. 

“Our walls are thin, Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice strained as he stumbled back a step to hold his friend upright.

There was a weird blur after Phichit’s comment, one that Yuuri didn’t decide to question until a later date. He felt like he was spinning, his ears were ringing, and his brain was humming to some pleasant tune he didn’t remember the words to. There seemed to be no one else in the room with him, but it felt like eyes were on him. He wanted those eyes to stay on him, to hear the music he played in his head. It was infectious and it put him in just the right mood he was going to need for this test recording. 

Now he felt like having a bit of fun.

* * *

When Yuuri awoke, he was in his own bed. His sleep pants were on backwards and his shirt was missing and he had a raging headache, but other than that, he was fine. He made to stand up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and immediately felt a lurch in his gut.

He was not fine. Not fine at all. He ran to the bathroom and vomited, the sour tang of alcohol and whatever he last ate rising past his throat. A few more followed before he gathered the wherewithal to flush. The smell of porcelain and chemically treated water filled his nostrils, making him want to puke again. All that came up was bile. He took some ibuprofen and promptly went back to sleep, not quite ready to deal with the outside world.

It was sometime in the afternoon when he was awake and decidedly less sick, so he finally got dressed and headed out to the kitchen. His roommate Phichit was at the sink, doing some dishes leftover from the other day.

“Hey, Phichit,” Yuuri greeted weakly, mouth feeling like he’d swallowed gravel.

Phichit turned around and chuckled at the sight of Yuuri’s disheveled hair and worn out eyes. “Morning, Yuuri! Sleep well?”

Yuuri narrowed his glare. Phichit knew something.

“Yakov said the test recording went really well,” Phichit carried on, knowing Yuuri was probably still half asleep. He opened up the microwave and handed the reheated cup to Yuuri. It was coffee.

“My test recording?” Yuuri asked, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip of the bitter drink. He had to think about the words, trying to conjure up some sort of coherent memory. He remembered Phichit showing him the studio room he was going to use, he remembered meeting Mila, but after that... He let the caffeine’s warmth wash over him. “I went through with it?”

Phichit leaned against the counter with a befuddled look on his face. “Yeah? Well,” Phichit amended a second after, “I left when Mila said you were good to go, and I didn’t see you until I came back here after work. By then, you were already in bed. You were pretty wasted, Yuuri. I’m surprised they got any footage at all.”

Yuuri froze. He did  _ not  _ remember any of that. “D-did you watch it?”

Phichit shook his head. “No, no. They don’t let actors watch the tapes on the job if they weren’t in it themselves. Test recordings are usually deleted shortly after viewing, anyway. They’re not meant for uploading, they’re just to see how good the newbies are.”

Yuuri felt a little better, knowing that whatever he did do, it was lost to history from everyone’s minds, including his own. He took another sip of his coffee and rubbed at his aching temples. “Do you know how I got home?”

Phichit shrugged. “I figured you must have walked. Maybe someone escorted you back, I don’t know. The important thing is that you’re here.”

Yuuri thought about that for a moment, but immediately regretted it as his head split down the middle from the effort. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since college. “So they’re probably not going to let me drink on the job anymore, are they?”

“Yakov said he wanted you assigned with someone so that ‘no more shenanigans’ occurred, whatever that meant. The cleaning people said the room was an absolute wreck when they went in to clean it. Whatever you did, Yuuri, clearly it was amazing.”

It was odd, hearing those words, referring to Yuuri’s sexual prowess, come from his best friend’s mouth. Odd, but not entirely unpleasant to hear. In fact, Yuuri felt that for once, he could take that compliment. He wasn’t sure how well he would do with someone else, though. Maybe it would be beneficial if he started out with Phichit. He was comfortable with Phichit.

Maybe he wouldn’t hate this so much after all.

Yuuri learned he would rescind that earlier statement, reinstate it, then rescind it once again all in the space of a few spoken words, then yet again over the course of his employment. Really, his mind would never quite settle on whether it was the best or worst decision of his life.

He and Phichit headed to SV Studios later that afternoon, with Yuuri’s hangover having realized it needed to remain in the memories of that morning and not follow them. Phichit had a part to film that day— one that he tried to describe to Yuuri, which Yuuri very pointedly ignored— and Yuuri had to have a talk with Yakov over his next assignments. More specifically, Yakov was going to pair him with someone. He was going to have Yuuri do  _ things _ with  _ someone else  _ in front of  _ cameras _ . Yuuri thought he was going to be fine; he had danced with others on the pole before, often rather suggestively.

This was just another step up. Or down. Yuuri wasn’t sure which direction this would take him. All he knew now as that it was something new. Something different. Something that would pay his half of the rent.

And yet, Yuuri couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure what kind of critique Yakov would give about his test recording, but having learned that Yakov wanted to assign him with someone, he wasn’t too keen to hear him out. What if he’d been awful, and he’d just made a mess of one of the studio’s rooms? What if Yakov was requesting him to come in only to preemptively fire him? What if that recording didn’t get deleted, got uploaded, and he’d never be able to have a normal job again?

Then again, if he kept this job, any further tapes would be uploaded, and then  _ for sure _ he would never be able to get another job again.

Nerves had his fingers twitching and his palms sweating, so he dug his hands deep into his sweatshirt pocket. He’d tried to clean himself up a little before heading in, even with Phichit’s guidance, but he couldn’t stomach wearing anything too tight. He still felt weird, even after a shower, like his skin was laid bare to the world before he could cover it up.

When they walked into the studio, the other Yuri was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the front desk. He had headphones on and was flipping through some sort of angsty music magazine with splotches of red and black over the cover, paying no mind to them.

Phichit snuck up to him and held one ear of the headphone away from Yuri’s ear. “Yakov’ll have your head if he sees your feet on the counter like that,  _ Yurio _ ,” Phichit whispered heavily before snapping the earpiece back onto Yurio’s ear and ducking away from an attempted swat.

“Back off, Phichit!” Yuri warned. “That’s not my name!”

“Vitya said it was!” Phichit chimed, laughing as he waved Yuuri into the back of the studio with him, leaving an agitated Yuri— Yurio— at the front. Yuuri felt daggers at his back as he followed Phichit into the other area.

As soon as they were in the back, however, Yuuri found himself alone. Phichit disappeared into one of the rooms with a brief wish of luck, saying that he would be done in a couple hours and to pick up some dinner on the way home. Just like any other job, Phichit handled himself well. It made Yuuri feel better and worse at the same time, knowing that Phichit was used to this stuff well enough to be his same self. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he would be able to do that, if he would be cut out for this after all.

He almost couldn’t handle it when he saw that man that had been with Vitya yesterday— Chris, that was his name— walk into the same room and the red light above the door flickered on.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Yakov’s voice floated into Yuuri’s consciousness and he turned to find the man standing next to his chair, “you’re here. Good. Come with me.”

They went back into Yakov’s office, same as last time, and Yuuri possibly felt even more uncomfortable than before. Yakov’s grim expression— it was always kind of grim, but this one was especially morose— didn’t lessen as the silence between them stretched. He was definitely going to be fired.

Yuuri couldn’t take the thick, unyielding atmosphere anymore. “I’m so sorry about what I did the other day I promise it won’t happen again please let me stay here I really need work I promise I’ll do better I’ll work with anyone please—”

Yakov looked stupefied for the first few words, but he held his hands up and tried to ease the situation. “Yuuri, Yuuri, calm down. I just wanted to talk about how your recording went over. I’m not going to let you go.”

Yuuri blinked. “Y-you’re not?”

“No, no,” Yakov cleared his throat, “although I do accept the apology. It was one hell of a mess to clean up.”

Yuuri’s face became overwhelmingly flushed. He wasn’t sure whether he wished he remembered what he did or not.

“Anyway, the recording looked great. You seem to do well with proper direction, and we can keep you on solos for a little while, but I think you should have another actor with you. They don’t have to be involved in anything beyond talking, at least not yet. It builds up the tension. A lot of people we’ve surveyed seemed to like that. Be it far from me to understand it, but delayed gratification could bring in a bigger paycheck for all of us. Of course, if you’re comfortable with continuing here,” Yakov didn’t say it as a question, but the words hung in the air with the demand of an answer.

This was it. Yuuri could back out now. He could dip his head, politely decline, and walk out the door while mentally preparing dinner on his way to the supermarket. It would have been simple. 

It would have been admitting failure.

“I’ll stay,” Yuuri said finally.

“Good,” Yakov concluded. “Now, as for the matter of who to pair you with…”

“Actually,” a familiar, sweet voice drifted into the room after the door creaked open, “I have an idea about that.”

Vitya walked into the office, leaning his shoulder into the open door with his arms folded across his chest. At least this time he was wearing clothes. It was a tight, scooped-neck three-quarter sleeved shirt and it left practically nothing to the imagination, so it didn’t really help. Yuuri thought he looked gorgeous regardless of the issue of clothing.

His eyes were a different matter. There was that same bright, cheerful disposition in them that paired with the faint blush on the tip of his nose. It was the same look he had in some of his more…  _ painted  _ portrayals, and Yuuri had a difficult time keeping those thoughts below the surface. It was hard when the only time he’d seen this man before, other than briefly yesterday, was through his laptop screen and a pair of headphones with his hand down his pants.

But there was also this subtlety to his gaze, something calculating and cheeky, and it was staring Yuuri down like prey. He shuffled in his seat, trying to avert his own eyes but also stealing glances when he thought Vitya had stopped looking.

(He never stopped looking.)

“Absolutely not, Vitya,” Yakov broke the stare with his insistence, “I am not pairing him up with you. You have too much in your schedule.”

Vitya stopped leaning against the door with a practiced, puzzled look on his face. “What schedule?”

Yakov’s hard eyes started to widen. He woke up his computer and started typing furiously. “Vitya, don’t tell me you—  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ , you cancelled all your filming times for the next  _ month _ ? What have you  _ done _ ?!”

“I told you,” Vitya smiled with a happy shrug, “I wanna pair up with Yuuri!”

Yuuri would have been more surprised by learning Vitya’s name had he not already been shocked over the man’s revelation. Why would Vitya, possibly the most decorated, most experienced adult movie actor in the world, want to work with  _ him _ ? He barely knew what he was doing in the bedroom and blushed at the mere mention of sex, even in front of his own roommate and best friend. Hell, he was probably an awful partner. He’d never been told he was a  _ good  _ partner before, and that wasn’t going to suddenly start now.

“Call your appointments back and tell them you’re still filming with them!”

“Yuuri,” Viktor— nope, that sounded weird to him, so ‘Vitya’ it would stay— whined, “tell Yakov we’d make a wonderful pair! You make wonderful music, after all. I can bring more of that out if you let me,” he added with a wink.

Yuuri just sat there, his eyes nervously flitting between Vitya and Yakov. The former was pleading with the most innocent, puppy-eyed expression while the former was still fuming heavily enough to fill the room with steam. He should be siding with his boss, should get on his good side. And pairing with Vitya would be a disaster; Yuuri would never last around him. Yet there was a part of him that wanted Vitya’s attention. Not as a new trainee, but as an equal. Someone who could give as good as he could receive. With the look Vitya was giving him, though, Yuuri didn’t think he would ever be on that same level. And Yakov did seem pretty dead set against it…

Err on the safe side, Yuuri.

“I-I, uh— okay,” was Yuuri’s brilliant start, “well— I mean I’m okay with it. With whatever,” his mouth stumbled over words his brain hadn’t thought to form yet. Great job.

“You hear that, Yakov?” Vitya jumped up and embraced Yuuri in a crushing side hug, smashing their cheeks together like they’d known each other forever. “He said ‘okay’! And look, my schedule’s all clear! So we can start filming soon, right?”

Yuuri’s eyes were wide, his shoulders stiff. The warmth of Vitya’s arms around him were surreal. The physical contact was nearly too much for him and he thought his lungs might have stopped working, but he couldn’t have been sure exactly when that happened. Vitya—  _ the  _ Vitya, the Living Legend— was practically hanging off of him, begging to work with him. He tried to inconspicuously pinch the skin on his forearm and, much to his happiness or chagrin (he couldn’t decide which), he was wide awake.

Yakov sighed, and for a moment, a brief moment, Yuuri was scared that Yakov would take away this wonderful feeling Yuuri now had blooming in his chest. “You never do what I say, anyway. Fine. Yuuri, you’ll be working with Vitya for this month, alright? If he tries anything funny, you let me know,  _ da _ ?”

Yuuri, not finding the strength to speak, nodded. There was no way he could sugarcoat this, no way to soften the blow.

He was going to film porn with Vitya the Living Legend.


	2. Shower Stall Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's first day on the job is... something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K this chapter wasn't supposed to be so long but??? It just sorta happened. It was supposed to go up yesterday but I was having a hard time writing it (which is pathetic because it is so vanilla smh). Here's to giving you guys a taste of how I currently write this stuff. 
> 
> Also - this chapter was already planned out so I haven't used any of your ideas yet. But trust me, you have given me a very long list to start checking off - it's exciting. Keep 'em coming!

There was a sharp chime coming from Yuuri’s laptop on the fold-out kitchen table. He paused, in the middle of washing the dishes, and glanced over. In that moment, he’d realized that his music playlist must have stopped at some point for him to have heard the notification. He dried his hands quickly, walking up to his laptop with the towel in his hands. The email was from Yakov Feltsman. He clicked on it with the driest finger he had.

Seeing that the email was quite lengthy, Yuuri set the towel aside and braced his hands on the edge of the table to read it through in its entirety.

_Yuuri Katsuki,_

_Welcome to SV Studios. We have attached your recording schedule for the month below, as well as your first project’s script. Please be aware that some times are subject to change and your schedule may differ in the coming weeks, depending on the other actors’ times. Your first month will act as a training period under Viktor Nikiforov. While filming, you will refer to him as ‘Vitya.’ Conversely, you will also have to be assigned a stage name. Please let us know if you have any preferences._

_We have several rules that must be followed strictly to ensure your safety and the smooth flow of the company. Please keep them in mind. Please also understand that failure to comply with these rules may result in termination. All employees are allowed three strikes on their record._

  1. _All actors must, without fail, be tested by a physician monthly, or whenever they have changed partners outside of work, and must notify Mr. Feltsman as well as the director of the actor’s current project. All visits must be documented and received by Mr. Feltsman at the beginning of every month for approval. Should there be any concerns, the actor must notify all parties involved._
  2. _All actors must be prompt. Please show up to your recording room at least 15 minutes prior to shooting. This allows us time to ensure the set is ready, your lines are memorized, and to correct any issues that need resolving. Please let us know at least 24 hours in advance of a recording time that you cannot make. If there is an emergency and you know you cannot make it, please call Mr. Feltsman and notify him immediately. All employees are allowed three unexcused absences per month, but must make up for any recording time that they miss without proper reason._
  3. _All actors must report their time on their specialized timesheets that are tacked to the bulletin board inside Mr. Feltsman’s office and on our online Time Spreadsheet (you will be emailed your new username and password shortly). Please fill out your time as it occurs to ensure details are not missing last minute. This may result in a delay in your paycheck._
  4. _All actors are given free food and drink in the main areas on each floor, but please be aware that we do not intend these to be full meals. The hours of 11am - 12pm or 12pm - 1pm are left unscheduled every day so that actors may be able to eat lunch. All actors may take one hour for lunch. These hours are paid but the food bought during this time is not._
  5. _All actors must report suspicious activity to Mr. Feltsman. Such activities include the following: physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, drug use, fraud, sabotage, blackmail, or anything that may breach an individual’s rights to privacy._
  6. _All actors are entitled to stop recording whenever they begin to feel uncomfortable. Safewords are to be agreed upon before recording by all parties involved, including by the director present. Whether or not the project continues is up to the party that initiated the safeword unless the director says otherwise._
  7. _Actors are not permitted to have romantic relationships with any other actors employed by SV Studios._



_We hope that these rules seem fair and that you know you can come to us with any questions. If there are any changes, an email will notify you within 24 hours._

_Please bring all necessary documents (passport, visa if applicable, two pieces of mail from your current address, medical paperwork, liability forms) to the office before your first recording session. We look forward to working with you!_

_Best wishes,_

_Yakov Feltsman & Company at SV Studios_

_[See attachment - November Schedule]_

_[See attachment - Shower Script]_

_[See attachment - Liability]_

Yuuri read through the rules twice, making sure that he understood them. They were all fairly straightforward and similar to the rules at the strip club, as well as most other jobs, more or less. The last rule was odd; normally those types of rules were unwritten, so for it to be written out so blatantly had Yuuri pondering as he looked around for his documents.

His eyes, however, lingered on Vitya’s real name for a bit longer than necessary. He mulled over the sound of it in his head while he set his medical records on top of a stack of Phichit’s books. _Viktor Nikiforov, Viktor Nikiforov._ It was beautiful, strong. It fit him, Yuuri thought, although he had to admit he knew next to nothing about the etymology involved. He had figured the man was Russian, which was confirmed by the majority of the other people in the studio having a similar accent and similarly styled names.

And he may have done some research of his own when he had gotten back home from the studio earlier that day, knowing that Phichit was still at his own recording. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be using Vitya’s real name anytime soon. He could barely look at the guy, let alone say his name.

Speaking of which, Yuuri wondered what kind of lines were in the script he’d been sent. He clicked on the second attachment and read over the document briefly. There was some dialogue at the beginning with some stage direction. It thinned out to a certain point where all specific dialogue ceased and stage directions took over. A blush slowly crept onto his face, heating up the area at his neck hidden by his sweater.

How was he supposed to do any of _that_ to the Living Legend without dying of embarrassment?

Willing himself to ignore the nervous energy beginning to pile in his gut, he pulled up his schedule instead, hoping to focus on practically anything else.

Glancing over it, Yuuri had to remind himself that these hours would earn him a paycheck. That idea calmed him down a little bit, knowing that twenty hours a week would be a sizeable paycheck for this line of work. Or at least he hoped so. He’d never actually been told how much he’d be earning. In that moment, he hadn’t cared. As long as he made enough to keep up with rent and maybe pay Phichit back for the past two months at some point, he would be fine. He had to be.

At least he knew he had the stamina to withstand twenty hours of sex a week.

Did Vitya?

* * *

Yuuri arrived at the studio thirty minutes early, his heart taking up permanent residence in his throat.

The teenager was sitting at the front desk as usual, eyes flicking upward to meet his briefly but otherwise no indication of acknowledgment. Yuuri nodded to him, unsure of what to say, and walked through the back door.

He went straight to Yakov’s door and knocked. Hearing a gruff “enter” muffled by the door, he opened it.

“Good morning, Yakov,” Yuuri tried his best to be cheery as he entered the room, but the effort was squandered when he saw that Yakov wasn’t the only one in the room.

“Morning, Yuuri!” Vitya waved to him, a dazzling smile on his face. “You excited to start recording today?”

Yuuri attempted to keep an equally light-hearted appearance but he had not been prepared to face this sort of scenario, or any scenario that involved Vitya outside of the recording room.

Thankfully, Yakov picked up on it. “Nice to see you this morning,” he spoke up, “did you bring the paperwork I asked you to?”

Yuuri produced the wad of documents from inside his jacket and handed them over. He had scrambled around his apartment for these the night before, making sure they were in a place he would remember them: right on his nightstand. There was no way he was going to make a terrible impression on his first day—

“Where’s your medical exam?”

Yakov’s question ripped Yuuri from his thoughts. The slip of paper should have been in there. It had to be. Yuuri patted his pockets in a frantic, jerky motion. He didn’t feel or hear any paper crinkling. He looked back out into the hallway, eyes roaming the floor desperately. Panic thrived in his being, feeding off the fear he was sure to be exuding in tidal waves. His feet and fingers were numb, the sinking feeling making it hard to stand. He’d had it last night: he distinctly remembered laying the medical papers on top of everything else. A million scenarios flew through his mind and he didn’t have the wherewithal to go through each of them.

“I-It was— I had it— I _swear_ , Yakov, I—” Yuuri cut himself off in a failed attempt to take a deep breath. He felt like such an idiot. “I’m so sorry!”

Yakov grumbled, shuffling the papers and setting them down on the desk. “I’ll have this stuff looked over, but I can’t have you filming today. Not with Vitya. Protocol.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure whether his panic had abated or increased at the statement. If Yuuri didn’t have his paperwork, he didn’t have to worry about having sex with Vitya the Living Legend on his first day. But it also meant that he didn’t have much of a job. He could probably convince Yakov that he could do a solo shoot today instead. It would give him time to ease into the job. And perhaps he could ask to be paired with someone else after that— after Vitya was out of sight. Yuuri thought through his words carefully, hoping he could get out of this more smoothly than how he’d started.

“We can still film today, Yakov,” Vitya spoke up suddenly, “just change the script a little.”

“ _Huh_?” Yakov glared at him in surprise. “We can’t just change the script in thirty minutes, Vitya. How does that help the situation?”

Vitya leaned on the edge of his chair over Yakov’s desk and flipped through a packet that was between them, thumbing the pages speculatively. It took him a moment until he found what he had been looking for. “Okay, well, here we can change ‘let me help you’ into ‘I’ll just be cleaning over here, then’ and turn it into a mutual instead. Or perhaps one-sided? I’m fine with the voyeurism angle. We can still use that shower on the third floor with the peep hole. That would probably work better for a first-timer, don’t you think?

“What do you think, Yuuri?” Vitya immediately turned the question over to him when Yakov didn’t supply an instantaneous answer, much to the boss’s apparent annoyance. Vitya had this proud look of accomplishment on his face as he smiled up at Yuuri. It was positively radiant with hope.

Yuuri bit his bottom lip out of habit. He didn’t usually have a hard time saying no to people when they asked for things. He had been living with Phichit for a couple years now, after all. If he couldn’t handle Phichit’s pout, then he would have been done for long before ever entertaining the thought of working here. He knew the script, and he knew where Vitya was talking about making the changes. “Wouldn’t the stage directions be all wrong, though?”

Vitya waved him off. “No one follows those completely. Besides, we can keep it simple today. I wouldn’t want to go all out on you on your first day,” he added a sultry wink, meant not to be missed by anyone.

Yuuri’s eyes flickered to Yakov, praying that the man would do something, anything, to get Vitya’s attention away from the flush of color that was threatening to become visible. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been flirted at before, but he definitely hadn’t flirted with anyone in front of someone else, let alone his boss. Call him traditional, conventional, but he preferred a slow start to anything.

Perhaps he chose the wrong line of work.

“You only get today to film it, then,” Yakov acquiesced, “because I can’t have you out of commission for a month with someone who doesn’t have their paperwork.”

“I promise I’ll bring it in next time!” Yuuri bowed instinctively, still very frustrated with himself.

“Be sure that you do,” Yakov said as he shifted his attention back to his computer. “Now, get going. Don’t run late or I’ll have your head, Vitya. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Yakov!” Vitya beamed, standing up to leave the room with his hand around Yuuri’s arm.

Without preamble, Yuuri was dragged out of the room and down the hall to a staircase. Vitya didn’t let go of him, but his grip wasn’t harsh. Of course, Yuuri was hyper-aware of his touch the whole time. The areas of his arm where Vitya’s fingers smoothed over his skin was hot and Yuuri wondered how he would ever be able to hand his fingers touching any other part of him. A reaction was already garnering his attention, much to his dismay. It was like he was a teenager again.

Vitya was talking animatedly about something, probably about the scene they were going to be filming in just a few short minutes. There was talk of costuming and voice projection and posture and zippers and Yuuri was still focusing on trying not to trip over his own feet because Vitya hadn’t let go of him yet. His breaths were coming short and fast, the stairs feeling steeper than he believed they actually were. His mind tried to listen to Vitya, but it was also trying to act like a normal human being, and that was becoming difficult with each step closer to their recording room.

Instead of heading into the shower area, however, Vitya took him over to a supply closet at the opposite end of the hall. Yuuri went rigid as Vitya let go of him and began rummaging through various articles of clothing, most likely costumes.

“... name yet?” Vitya poked his head out from underneath a costume’s sleeve that had found it’s way above him, completely oblivious to how ridiculous he looked. It was oddly cute.

“W-What?” Yuuri shook his head to bring himself back to the matter at hand.

“Have you decided on your name yet?” Vitya asked as he heaved a box out of the closet and set it in front of Yuuri. Then he was looking through it with tunnelled focus, picking up and setting aside fabrics of different colors and fittings. He held up what looked like a janitor’s uniform and set it apart from the rest. “Because I think I’ve got a good one.”

“Lemme hear it,” Yuuri tried to pull it off nonchalantly. He was surprised to hear that Vitya had been thinking about him at all. He didn’t think he’d have any spectacular name. Nothing that stood out, at least, just a fake name like Mark or Jacob or something else bland and inconspicuous that changed with whatever scene he did.

“Eros,” Vitya answered, standing with the uniform and laying it against Yuuri’s body, probably to check the size. Yuuri leaned his chin over and saw that it reached down a little past his feet, a little big. Vitya’s hands were holding up the uniform against Yuuri’s shoulders, lingering longer than Yuuri thought was necessary.

“Eros?”

“Mm,” Vitya pursed his lips and nodded, folding up the uniform and handing it to Yuuri, “Eros. The Greek god of sexual pleasure. I think it fits you.”

The comment was said so off-handedly that Yuuri nearly missed it. Nearly. His heartbeat quickened as the realization dawned on him. There was no possibility that _he_ was in any way, shape, or form akin to a God when it came to sex. What gave Vitya this idea anyway? It wasn’t like he’d seen the test recording. No one but Mila and Yakov had seen it. In the back of his mind, he hoped that they had kept whatever he’d done a secret.

“Oh,” was the best Yuuri could offer.

After putting the box back into the supply closet, Vitya led them over to the showers. Upon entering, Yuuri saw that Mila was there with several cameras already set up in front of two stalls that suspiciously didn’t have doors whatsoever, and a wheeled mop bucket off to the side. There were also two chairs pulled up in front of the mirror and white, fluffy robes hanging up on a blank wall. A man with dark hair had several combs and bottles in his hands, organizing them with a neutral, although vaguely annoyed, face. Beside him was a girl with tanned skin and dark, flowing hair leaning against the wall.

“Yuuri!” Mila jumped up and hugged him. “Are you ready give Vitya a run for his money again?”

Again? Oh. Well, if his recording had gone as well as they said it did, he supposed the question wasn’t unfounded. Unlikely, but not unfounded.

“Ah, about that!” Vitya spoke as he tugged off his shirt in one fluid motion, revealing picturesque abs that caused Yuuri to stare, an odd sense of familiarity in the sight. “We’ve changed the script. His medical paperwork isn't in yet but Yakov still wants us to film. I’ve already gone over the changes with Eros.”

“Eros?”

“Yuuri’s new name!” Vitya piped up in the middle of taking off his pants. They fell off in his excitement and Yuuri swore his neck snapped with the speed it took for him to look away. The man with dark hair handed Vitya a robe when the star sat down on the stool. “Georgi, this is Yuuri. Yuuri, Georgi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Georgi offered.

Yuuri nodded to him, still entirely preoccupied by the fact that Vitya had just stripped in front of him, no holds barred.

“He’s the stylist,” Mila explained. “And Sara over here’s the fluffer. We should only need one since we just have to make sure Vitya’s ready. You should at least be half-hard for the start of the scene, but,” she leaned in and whispered against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, low enough for him alone, “I imagine you won’t need a fluffer for that, yeah?”

If Yuuri thought his cheeks had been burning at any point today, they were melting off of his face right now. He had tried not to pay attention to his growing arousal, particularly with a now naked Vitya sitting a few feet away from him, but he supposed there was no use trying to hide it. He sort of needed it.

“Should I change into my costume now?” Yuuri held up the janitor’s jumpsuit, desperate to get away and steel himself for what was to come.

“Of course,” Mila said, “just be sure not to wear underwear. It distracts from the shot.”

Yuuri promised to keep that in mind as he made his way to the furthest corner of the bathroom— since apparently _none_ of the stalls had doors— and stripped facing away from the rest of them. The fewer people that had to see his half hard-on before they started filming, the better. He shucked off his jeans and shirt, tossing them to the floor. Before his underwear followed suit, he unfolded the costume and unzipped the front, positioning it so that he could slip it on as quickly as possible after the rest of his clothing was gone. At the same time, he was attempting to appear as if he _wasn’t_ overly conscious of what he looked like. If he acted normal, there wouldn’t be anything weird.

There was a whistling noise that echoed throughout the tiled walls. He couldn’t pinpoint its origin.

“You need to tell me what you did to get such a nice butt, I’m jealous,” Mila pouted as he turned around, zipping up the last of the costume. It was a bit loose, but considering his predicament, he was thankful for that.

He was not thankful for the view he got of Vitya and the fluffer while Georgi casually styled Vitya’s hair. A flair of confusing emotions reared their ugly heads for the briefest of moments before Yuuri forced them back down. If he’d paid more attention to them, he would have noticed the twinge of jealousy snaking its way under his skin. Like the other emotions, though, he ignored it.

Mila went over the parts of the script that went unchanged with Yuuri, making sure he was comfortable with that much. She also promised that the other two would leave before it was time to shoot so that she would be the only other person, _and_ that she would keep her eyes strictly on the camera’s viewfinder. He was assured that once things got rolling, it would feel like they were the only two in the room, and that Yuuri would forget all about the cameras. He had no choice but to believe her.

When Georgi had finished Vitya’s hair and combed through Yuuri’s, he decided that things were set. It was a bathroom scene, after all, so makeup wouldn’t really be necessary. None more than what Vitya already had on, and Yuuri was playing the role of a cleaning man so it wouldn’t have mattered whether he wore makeup or not. With that completed, he packed up his tools and left the room with Sara close behind.

Vitya got up and sauntered over to one of the stalls, untying his robe as he went. He tossed it over the wall carelessly and sat on the bench. The view was uninhibited as he spread his legs and appeared to relax, turning the water on behind him. The rush and pitter-patter of water filled the air with soft white noise. He glanced over to Mila with an eyebrow raised, to which she answered with a nod and a thumbs-up. He set his glasses down on the counter.

Vitya turned to Yuuri and smiled. “Safeword’s ‘purple,’ okay?”

Yuuri was trying not to poke a hole through his costume just yet. “O-okay.”

Well, here went nothing.

* * *

A man with silver hair stood in the shower, his face to the wall. He was humming a quiet tune, the reverb being excellent for a choir. He took the showerhead and slowly guided it over each of his arms, over his well-defined shoulders and watched over them as the water cascaded down his back, droplets of water clinging to his skin like they belonged there. He sighed long and deep as the warmth washed over him.

Then, a thought came to him. He was the only one in the gym’s bathroom this late at night. He half turned around, peering outside the stall to make sure. Satisfied with the situation, he brought the showerhead down to his hips, letting the water play over his abdomen. He hummed approvingly as he slid his hand over his now wet abs and almost, _almost_ around himself.

He checked the surrounding area one more time and set to work. His hand went to his already hard cock, gripping it firmly before using the water to slip his forefinger and thumb down his length. He paused at the corona, rubbing back and forth over the ridge tentatively. He left a soft gasp escape his lips, hoping no one heard him. When his fingers got to the tip, he pinched it slightly and rubbed the pad of his finger over the slit. A shiver of pleasure rippled through his body down to his toes. He repeated these motions a few times over, leaning himself against the cool metal of the shower wall.

“Oh,” his voice moaned of its own accord when he started pumping long, slow, and tight. “That’s good…”

Yuuri rolled his shoulders and began pushing the mop cart until it was just within the camera’s field of view. _It’s not there, it’s not there_ . He wrung out the mop and slapped it down on the tile, pushing it around in lazy circles. He couldn’t believe they made him take the late shift tonight. The late shift was always the worst. There was always some terrible mess to clean up, like empty toiletry bottles, used towels, cameras… _not there!_ Yuuri grumbled in disapproval as he saw that someone had left a bathrobe hanging over the shower stall.

The shower was running, actually. Strange. Was someone here after hours?

“Excuse me, sir, we’re clo—” Yuuri’s voice cut off when he looked into the next stall.

There was a man standing with his back to the janitor, his hips rutting forward in small ticks. There was a camera inside the shower stall, but Yuuri did his best to ignore it. Silver hair swished as the man turned his head. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is the gym closed now?”

“Y-Yes,” Yuuri was unabashedly staring at Vitya’s ass, its shape was perfect and he imagined it would feel _very_ nice in his hands. The small movements didn’t go unnoticed either. Yuuri gulped, then blinked as he realized he had lines to deliver. “I’m here to clean the stalls.”

“Oh,” Vitya smiled and turned to him fully, as if forgetting what he’d been doing, “I see. Well, I’ll be done in a few minutes, but please, clean around if you must. I don’t mind.”

Yuuri distinctly remembered the next line. In the original script, he was supposed to say _actually, let me help you_ and then they were going to—

The new line was: “I’ll just be cleaning over here, then.” Yuuri said them shakily, unable to control the way his entire being was reacting to seeing Vitya hard _in person_. It was, well, sizeable, to say the least. The temperature in the room was suddenly too warm and his palms were sweaty. The mop jittered in his hold and his whole mouth had dried up at the sight of Vitya’s dick practically laid out for him. He was starting to hate himself even worse for forgetting his paperwork at home.

_Focus._

Yuuri pretended to mop around the other stall until he was out of Vitya’s sight, his heart pounding and threatening to break out of his chest. If he was only supposed to be half-hard from that, he’d have to work on his self-control for projects in the future because his costume was already feeling constrictive. He set the mop back into the bucket and leaned it against the other side of the stall he was currently in. He was almost startled by the small camera aimed at the bench, but pointedly looked away.

There happened to be a small window nestled into the stall, a stark contrast against the brushed metal. It had a latch, so Yuuri thought it was probably opened for other types of scenes. He wouldn’t be allowed to open it this time, and the thought of it was a little sad.

Not sad enough to get rid of his problem.

Definitely not sad enough to ignore the quiet pants and slick friction of skin on skin.

Yuuri sat sideways on the bench, one leg spread into a half cross-legged position with his foot tucked underneath the other leg that planted his other foot to the ground. Arching his neck forward, he peered through the window.

The sight that greeted him was perfectly angled, the view of Vitya leaning against the wall, one arm reaching up behind his head in a relaxed posture and the other guiding Yuuri’s eyes to the object he’d been face-to-face with just moments ago. Yuuri gulped, his cock twitching in his costume. Vitya was casually playing off every visual indication of pleasure that existed. His eyes were lidded, his lips were parted, tugged into a small smirk, his muscles trembled whenever his squeezed himself at the tip.

And the _sounds_ he was making, just small enough to be heard over the shower, but little more. Like he was trying to be discreet about it, to not get caught again.

Yuuri remembered his directions after a moment, too stupefied by the fact that this was his reality now. He palmed at the front of his costume, over the zipper line. The metal of the closed teeth provided a tiny cooling sensation along his underside. His eyelids fluttered, but he never looked away from the beautiful sight in the other stall. It was just like watching at home, he told himself.

Growing impatient, Yuuri unzipped the costume all the way down, slowing carefully over his crotch. He pulled himself out, knowing the camera was going to catch that he was completely hard. He tried not to think about it.

His hand wrapped around his cock loosely, a few quick pumps taking the edge off of the fog that was beginning to cloud his vision. The rest of the fog that didn’t disappear he assumed was due to the shower. He imagined how heated Vitya’s skin must be, how thick his need must feel in his hands. He imagined being able to touch that gorgeous body as he slowed his pace, tightening his grip. There was a noise caught in his throat that desperately wanted to surface.

Vitya’s head fell back, exposing his throat as his adam’s apple bobbed. A moment later, a low moan floated over the divider between them and his hand squeezed the tip for a few seconds. Yuuri could see the precome glistening as Vitya spread it over his head attentively. Yuuri shuddered, looking away for a brief moment to collect his thoughts because if he had kept looking he was going to do this way too fast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mila behind the camera, her lips mouthing the words _speak up_.

It only took his eyes returning to Vitya to get Yuuri to comply. The man on the other side was sitting on the bench now, his legs much wider than they needed to be. One leg was hiked up on the bench, bent close to his ass, which could be seen now with how he was leaning in on himself. Yuuri wondered as he pet himself particularly roughly just how flexible Vitya could be.

“Fuck,” Yuuri whispered. Then Vitya caught his eye through the small window and winked as his free hand ghosted down his inner thigh, not once faltering in his main ministration. Yuuri _whined_.

“Are you watching me?” Vitya spoke suddenly, the question sounding genuine on his lips.

Yuuri paused. He didn’t remember that being— well, the entire script was up in the air at this point, wasn’t it? There wasn’t much to go on, and Vitya probably knew what he was doing if years worth of bookmarked porn on Yuuri’s computer was anything to go by. Yuuri bit his lip. “Y-yeah.”

“Oh?” Vitya mused. “Can I see?” He was looking through the window now.

Yuuri could feel the panic building up, like he’d been caught in private. It took the camera glaring at him as a reminder that this was fine, that he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. But knowing it was okay and actually following through on it were two entirely different things.

“Uh…” Yuuri’s hand had stilled, but his cock was beginning to ache, begging him to continue.

“C’mon,” Vitya beckoned with a pull of his cock, “show me, please?”

That aching feeling quickly turned into something else. Yuuri pinched three fingers around the base to hold off the approaching wave of pleasure, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t lose it here, that would be beyond shameful and embarrassing.

Taking his mind away from his lower region, he shrugged the costume off his shoulders and took his arms out of the sleeves. The fabric fell away to pool around his hips, falling to his legs as he kneeled onto the bench. His free hand latched onto the top of the shower stall divider to keep his balance and he turned his body toward the small window, suspiciously lined up _just so_ with his cock. Yuuri held himself there, his fingers loosely following the curve of his body so that he didn’t put too much sensation on his impending orgasm.

Then he realized that the cameras, from these angles, wouldn’t be able to pick up the fact that the window existed. He was about to turn himself back around when he heard Vitya on the other side.

“Are you getting off to me?” Vitya asked, his voice sultry. “Do I sound good to you?”

At the sound of Vitya’s next moan, Yuuri leaned back, using his hand on top of the stall to hold him up as he peered into the window. To his shock, he saw that Vitya had moved to be in a mirrored position with him, his own tip pressing against the glass. Yuuri groaned, unable to stop himself from pumping at the sight.

“Do it with me,” Vitya said softly, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if the cameras were going to pick it up. “You have such a nice cock.”

The pooling warmth in his gut reacted to his words unfairly, and before Yuuri could reign it back in, Vitya’s hand appeared over the shower stall divider and linked hands with him. Their fingers were interlocked, gripped tightly to the wall. Yuuri could feel the vibrations of Vitya’s movements, could sense his muscles clenching as he played with himself, and it was too much too much too much.

Yuuri’s hands clenched but it was too late and he was spilling himself all over the window, blurring the view of the other side.

* * *

“Shit,” Yuuri muttered under his breath.

“Cut,” Mila’s voice sliced through the thick atmosphere, bringing Yuuri back to reality. She was casting a strange glare to the other stall. “Take a ten minute break, you two.”

Yuuri pressed his forehead to the metal stall, trying to lose himself in the cold sensation and wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He knew his cheeks had to be as red as his boiling hot blood, what with the immense pounding in his ears as his heart began to pump blood back to the rest of his body now.

There was a series of footsteps and a heavy fleece laying across his shoulders in an instant, spooking Yuuri. He looked up to see Mila’s sympathetic smile. “You okay?”

Yuuri took that as the indication that Mila hadn’t heard what Vitya said to him. He shook his head in disbelief before answering. “U-Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just need, uh, two minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

Mila raised an eyebrow. “You just saying that or are you actually going to be hard in two minutes without a fluffer?”

If Yuuri could flush harder, he would, because the idea of having some stranger casually stroking his dick just to keep him hard was slightly discomforting. “It’s not gonna go down at all. I just don’t want to be too sensitive to start again or I’ll…” probably finish twice as fast, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Mila nodded, understanding anyway. “Well, go get a drink and pat your face with one of the towels there. We’ve gotta make it all look continuous at least.”

Yuuri put his costume back on, unzipped, and pulled on the robe and tied the front, still not wanting to move out of the stall for fear of seeing Vitya’s disappointment. The last thing he wanted to see right now was validation on how pathetic he was. “How much do you have to go off right now?”

Mila walked back over to the main camera and searched for the information. “About ten minutes, actually. Another ten to fifteen and I think we can call it good. People can only watch masturbation for so long before it gets boring. I might have Vitya change some of his stuff toward the end to make it interesting.”

Yuuri nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he exited the stall and walked over to the sink. He turned on the water and splashed his face several times, coming close to scratching his face with his nails. It was impossible to describe his shame. When he watched Vitya from his computer he never came that hard— or that quick, although arguably he came quicker watching Vitya than he ever did any other actor. Having him there in person, barely doing anything, shouldn’t have set him off. If he got so worked up from just a touch to his hand, he was scared for how badly he would be messing up every other scene for the next month.

“Here,” a voice to his left and a towel near his face focused Yuuri’s attention.

He took the towel with a word of thanks and pat his face to get the excess moisture off. When he put the towel back down on the counter, he realized Vitya had been the one to hand it to him. He was standing oddly close, but at least now he had the same plain white robe around himself, too.

Yuuri squeaked, his hands flying to his mouth to silence the offending noise.

“Yuuri,” Vitya smirked, “good job so far.”

That was the last thing Yuuri wanted to hear. A depreciating remark on blowing his load like a teenager in front of the most— ahem— _decorated_ adult movie actor was hardly something that made him feel better. But perhaps the pinch of resentment would be enough to stave off his next round. Yuuri tilted his head downward in minute acknowledgement.

“I-I can do better…” Yuuri mumbled, striving to be sure of himself but finding it very hard with Vitya’s speculative eyes boring holes into him.

“I know,” Vitya’s voice was once again too quiet, barely heard, “can’t wait to see your Eros,” he emphasized the last word with the roll of his tongue and a wink before walking back over to the set.

Yuuri had to remind himself that Vitya was just doing his job. That didn’t stop the blush that he had just gotten to disappear to come back tenfold, but at least he gave it a shot. True to his word, though he hadn’t been sure if his body would call him a liar, he was still hard. If anything, he thought that his body was probably willing to go for two more rounds, against his brain’s better judgment. It had been a blessing and a curse with his past lovers, but for right now, he thanked whatever was out there for it. He walked back to his stall and waited on the go-ahead from Mila.

If Vitya was going to issue a challenge, who was Yuuri to refuse?

* * *

The man with silver hair on the other side of the stall was picking up where he left off, his hand stroking his hard-on against the window and his arm resting against the wall to hold himself up. Yuuri had taken his costume off halfway again and it pooled at his knees where he kneeled like before. This time, he slowed himself down, content to watch the man at the other side pleasure himself.

“Did you want to watch?” Vitya’s stage voice came across the barrier, louder, more teasingly.

Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure what direction any of this was supposed to go in anymore, but he wasn’t in as bad of a haze as before, so it had to count for something. He glanced back toward Mila for the briefest of moments to see that she was silently encouraging him with those same words on her lips. _Speak up_.

“Yeah, I’ll watch. Sit pretty for me,” he commanded, running a hand through his hair to push it back. The strands were starting to stick to his forehead and it distracted him. It also helped him concentrate on himself, because if he tried to look through the window too soon it might spell an early career death for him.

There was a thump on the shower wall and a low groan, although whether it was from pain or pleasure Yuuri couldn’t tell. He heard Vitya’s feet land back onto the tile floor and retreat to the far bench, the wood creaking as he lowered his weight. Yuuri sucked in a breath and leaned back to finally look through the window. From this angle, however, he could only just barely see above his abdomen. That wouldn’t do. He slowly lowered himself to the tile floor, turned his body to face the camera without moving his head, and squeezed his tip at the sight that greeted him.

Vitya was sitting down with both his legs spread wide, heels digging into the edge of the bench. His ass was practically off the bench, most of his weight being supported by his legs and lower back. It couldn’t have been very comfortable, but Yuuri guessed it was mostly for the camera angles. Regardless, he wasn’t complaining about the full view of Vitya’s straining muscles, his chest expanding and constricting, and his entrance just below his hard cock that he was stroking languidly.

Yuuri forgot how to speak, mesmerized by the effortless way this man opened himself up for him. It made him feel powerful and weak all at once, the way his head swam with arousal and his ankles buckled beneath him.

“How’s this?” Vitya asked, biting his lip at the end of his question as an invitation for Yuuri to try to use his voice.

“Perfect,” Yuuri breathed, then realized he was too quiet and wasn’t technically able to see Vitya from this angle according to the cameras. “Perfect,” Yuuri tried again, a bit louder as he made a show of checking from the space underneath the shower stall.

That was when Yuuri saw Vitya bring two fingers into his mouth to suck on almost reverently. Yuuri gulped and mirrored the movement, knowing Vitya could see at least his face from this angle through the window. Vitya must have noticed, because his eyes darkened and his tongue darted out and curled around one finger with exaggerated purpose.

Yuuri beat him to the punchline and circled one of his nipples with his wet fingers, pinching them and creating a soft ‘o’ with his mouth when he sighed. Vitya’s right foot slipped off the bench before he could recover. Smirking, Yuuri pinched and tugged just a little, pulling his cock in time with it. The nerves connected in a brief shock of pleasure and he made sure Vitya saw every bit of it.

He must have, too, because he was already repeating the gesture, tossing his head back and allowing a throaty groan to escape.

And on they went, goading each other, dancing around their arousal, pushing each other further. There were battles of sounds, of gentle gasps and heady moans. Yuuri had both hands on his cock, his pace along his shaft fast and hard and the rubbing of his slit light and quick. The knot deep inside him was close to unravelling. He’d been pushed so far. Vitya was teasing him with two of his fingers ghosting over his entrance, the area’s muscles twitching involuntarily. Yuuri was determined to make him come first, though. As payback for earlier.

It wasn’t going very well, and it went even worse when Vitya decided enough was enough. He pushed both fingers in at once, choking on his moans. Yuuri stuttered at the sight, his brain savoring the new sounds Vitya began to make.

“I wanted that so badly,” Vitya called out, his teasing voice faltering as he fingered his hole open, “i-it’s getting me close. So… _close_.”

Any semblance of control Yuuri thought he’d had flew out the window, though he tried desperately to hold on. His leg, the muscle that ran from his groin down his inner thigh, was beginning to spasm and he could feel his entire body start to lurch. It wasn’t going to be long now. He had to do something.

“You better come with those fingers in deep,” Yuuri spat out, “I wanna see that face of yours as you clench around them.”

Vitya’s face blanched— surprised?— before scrunching tight, following Yuuri’s orders with an increase in his movements. Yuuri could see his hips shaking, his legs struggling to stay open as he started to close in on himself, lost to the feeling.

What finished it for Yuuri was seeing Vitya’s fingers push in just a little deeper, his hole taking them in greedily. Yuuri saw white and hung his head low as he came again.

He was breathing hard, his vision burning back slowly, his hand and wrist unbearably cramped now that he had blood pumping to the rest of his body more readily. In his second post-orgasmic haze he vaguely heard Vitya crying out in a weak voice, probably finishing as well. The sound was one Yuuri had been well acquainted with over the years, not that he would have told anyone that.

He lost again. Frustrated, he remembered that he had some sort of outro line because _of course_ the plot had to continue, as thin as it was. Yuuri groaned as he tucked himself back into the costume that hadn’t been tainted before but now had a noticeable smear where his head was still leaking. His legs quivered slightly as he stood, zipping up his costume.

“Looks like I left quite the mess,” Vitya huffed with a laugh in his tone.

Yuuri was glad Vitya took the initiative with the lines, but at the same time he berated himself for not being able to pull himself together. “It’s late now. Guess I’ll just have to clean it tomorrow.”

“So you’re saying you’ll come back for more?”

The question caught Yuuri off-guard, and the mop he’d been holding onto was still in the bucket. The wheels slid away from him when he startled, nearly tripping in the process. That hadn’t been in the script.

Every time he opened his mouth, sounds were tough to come out. His brain was still reeling. “W-we’ll see.”

* * *

“And we’re done,” Mila turned off each camera. “Great job, you two,” she said with a hint of mischief.

Yuuri bowed his head, still not trusting his voice, and shed the costume. He didn’t care who saw him right now. His embarrassment at not lasting long again was enough to forego his embarrassment of being naked in front of people. He’d have to get used to it sooner or later, anyway. Mila handed him his robe again and he took it gratefully. In return, he helped pick up some of the pieces still lying around the set, although Mila had insisted that he didn’t need to.

Or, he tried to pick up some things when Vitya draped himself over Yuuri’s shoulders, still very naked.

“Wow,” Vitya breathed against his neck, “I’ve never had a first timer keep up with me that well. I bet your stamina is amazing.”

Yuuri was about to thank him for the compliment when Vitya continued.

“But your angles were a bit off, the camera at your side couldn’t see anything ‘cause your arm was in the way half the time, your voice was too quiet, your moans were a little bit soft sometimes, you’ll have to work on your acting skills, too, and you had issues with—”

The stream of critiques only hastened, his words blurring until it made Yuuri dizzy. If it weren’t for Vitya’s hands catching him midfall, he would have fainted.

“— oh, and some advice?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “What are you, my coach now?”

Vitya paused, confusion flitting across his face momentarily. It was gone as soon as it arrived, no trace to be found. “Well, I am filming with you during your training period...”

Yuuri had to give him that. He surrendered. “What advice do you have, then?

“Rub one out before coming here to film,” Vitya said with the straightest face Yuuri even thought possible for someone like him, “it makes you last longer. Although, with your stamina, going twice a shoot might not be a problem.”

Um.

“Oh,” was once again the best he could offer. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

“Great,” Vitya had his characteristic smile on his face once again. “Can’t wait!”

Later that night, when Yuuri laid in bed with his head in his hands and the blush rose to his cheeks as he recalled the day’s events, he found that his heart was beating proudly. Despite all of the blunders, the terrible amount of blushing he’d done, it had been fun. Something about working with Vitya, with being the one to make him come undone, it made him happy. He couldn’t wait, either.


	3. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri recounts the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thing, I haven't gotten the chance to edit this to the extent that I usually do so please excuse errors. I should be able to fix up the chapter soon. If there's any large changes I'll let you guys know.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“Yuuri,” Phichit called him over from his position against his room’s door frame, “is this yours?”

Yuuri stopped tying his shoes for a moment to find that Phichit was waving papers in his hands. Squinting, he held out a hand to see what they meant. His friend walked over and danced the papers around his fingertips, causing Yuuri to work for them. Yuuri played his game for a moment before giving up, waiting until Phichit’s hand stilled and he could snatch the papers. Phichit had a wry grin on his face as he bent down and untied one of Yuuri’s shoes as payback.

The exchange had been silent up until then, when Yuuri finally glanced over the papers. “My medical paperwork? Why do you have it?”

“I found it mixed in with my books when I was cleaning the other day,” Phichit explained as he pulled on his own shoes, “almost thought they were mine, since they’re due pretty soon, too.”

Yuuri didn’t ever think too hard about Phichit’s position at _SV Studios_ before. He hadn’t even known Phichit worked at such a place until the end of their time at the university. They’d both been dance majors. But Phichit had suffered a career-ending injury during his dance final and Yuuri had been worried about his friend’s future. That was when his friend had joked about working at an adult movie studio.

Of course, Yuuri knew pretty soon after that it hadn’t been a joke.

“Well, thanks,” Yuuri folded the papers into thirds and set it down on the table. He finished tying his shoes, his motions slowing as he came to terms with the meaning of those papers.

They had been the only thing keeping him from having actual sex the other day. Because, filmed or not, he was still terrified of having sex with Vitya. There was no way he could measure up to someone who’d been in the business longer than Yuuri wanted to think about. Yuuri had barely even had sex before, let alone _filmed_ it. Not a thing he was into. Perhaps if they warmed up to it, though, Yuuri could be okay. He had done fine when they were separated by a metal shower stall. And while keeping that distance might help in the short term, he knew he couldn’t be in the sex industry by having sex with a wall between them.

Well, there were _some_ scenarios that came to mind, but he doubted Yakov would greenlight all of his films to be done that way. That would be too greedy.

Whichever scenario he was given, he knew now how they would go once he had his paperwork in. And if he didn’t give over his paperwork, he wouldn’t have rent money. Between a rock and a hard place, almost too literally.

“— _Yuuri_ ,” Phichit waved his hand in Yuuri’s face. “You there?”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked, looking up suddenly.

“I said, are you okay to pay your half this month?” Phichit asked again. “You just started, so if you don’t have enough just yet I can pay the full rent for another month until you’ve gotten enough paychecks under your belt.”

“Phichit, no,” Yuuri stopped him, “I can pay now. I _will_ pay now. And I’ll be paying you back for the past couple months. You’ve done so much for me already. I only have until the end of December, I can’t let you pay for all of that with nothing in return.”

Phichit’s brows inched closer together. “So you don’t want to renew the lease?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, only to find that he couldn’t. If he didn’t renew the lease, he would move out. He would go back home to Hasetsu, the castle town he hadn’t seen in five long years. It was tempting; he missed the smell of the salt washing over the bridge, the homey atmosphere of the ballet studio he’d spent half his life in, the flavorful taste of the _katsudon_ his mother always made him. He missed curling his tongue around the familiar syllables he knew so well, even after speaking solely English for so long.

At the same time, he didn’t want to leave Detroit just yet. Despite his own personal setbacks, he loved the opportunities he’d been given here. Meeting Phichit, especially. He was the closest friend he had, and considering the time he’d spent with Yuuko and Takeshi in his youth, that was high praise for Phichit. Not to mention Yuuri owed Phichit much more than rent money, more than money could ever repay.

“I’m thinking about it,” was Yuuri’s noncommittal response. “Depending on where I can find a good job.”

“You’ve _got_ a good job now,” Phichit tried to point out.

“Filming porn wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I walked out of Commencement with my diploma,” Yuuri pointed out.

Phichit chuckled. “Hey. How many jobs allow you to orgasm on the clock?”

“ _Phichit_ ,” Yuuri warned, warmth flooding his cheeks.

His friend just laughed, savoring in his embarrassment. Phichit pocketed his wallet and opened their front door, turning to him with an invitation shining in his eyes. “Ready for work?”

If by ready, Phichit meant ‘did you make sure to jerk off before going to have sex with a god so that you won’t come in thirty seconds’ then yes, Yuuri was ready. Three times over, in fact.

If by ready, Phichit meant ‘to have sex with Vitya the Living Legend’ then no, Yuuri believed he would never, in fact, be ready.

* * *

If there was one thing to be said about that particular day in _SV Studios_ , it was that it had been full of surprises for Katsuki Yuuri. Should he count each one, no matter how small, it would have been endless. He could have used the sheer number of them to count them off as he lulled into sleep that night. For sake of his sanity and his consciousness, however, he could safely recount ten instances where his heart wandered faster than his mind, where his heart pounded, thrumming nameless emotions throughout his body, and where he considered— not for the first nor the last time— his self-worth in the context of his lot in life.

The first instance had been just upon entering the studio with Phichit. Yurio’s glare immediately landed on him and only him. As opposed to Yurio’s usual disinterested scowl, he had looked at Yuuri with what appeared to be a mixture of initial reactance, impatience, and residual resentment. His words, however, didn’t match with any of those things, and Yuuri had to shake his head to be sure he was hearing and seeing things right.

“‘Bout time you got here,” he’d muttered, albeit in that grumpy tone that Yuuri had labeled his default vocal disposition.

Regardless, it was strange, the sense of relief that seemed to roll off of those words pointed at him. For someone who said they didn’t care about what went on behind the backdoors, he seemed to be borderline grateful for the other Yuuri’s presence.

The second instance had been when Yuuri had given Yakov his overdue medical paperwork. Yakov’s similar trademark scowl was no different as he handed Yuuri a piece of paper with numbered paragraphs. When prompted, he’d been told they were additional rules that applied to the nature of the sexual acts that would be filmed. The formal rules he’d been given in the email were just that: a formality. The additional rules were in actuality more strict and far more likely to end in termination. The only reason he hadn’t been given them before was because his paperwork was supposed to mean that he wouldn’t be filming. Due to the nature of the changes to their first script, the list hadn’t been necessary.

But as Yuuri looked over the list, the staunch reality set in that this line of work was rarely, if at all, about the sex being what sex was meant to be, at least in Yuuri’s mind: a form of love and desire for another human being. This list, on the other hand, was shorter than the last one.

  1. _Actors are not to kiss on the lips when filming. Nor the cheeks, forehead, or anywhere on the face. Kisses to the neck and below are permitted._
  2. _Actors are not to use their real names when filming. Stage names and role-specific names only._
  3. _Actors are not permitted to orgasm inside another actor. This includes orally as well as anally._



Whether or not they were strange requests, Yuuri couldn’t be sure. He thought he had seen some films where the actors definitely did all of these things and no harm had been done. But none of those films had involved Vitya. Now that he recalled his previous encounters with the on-screen Vitya, he realized that none of these things had been present. His short, questioning hum had him wondering if these things changed anything about the quality of the stuff he’d watched because, admittedly, he knew people didn’t watch porn for the more romantic requirements of lovemaking.

The third surprise came from his new script and recording room. Since he’d gone in with Phichit that morning, he had well over an hour before his own recording session. Yakov had given him the purple leotard and a script with _101_ written and circled in bright, thick red ink across the top. He leafed through it, noticing the dialogue was demanding Yuuri to lead to entire venture. The specific segues he was to initiate had him questioning where on earth Yakov got the idea that Yuuri could command _Vitya_ through a scene at all. He puffed out a breath of disbelief as he pushed the door to the recording room open, hoping to familiarize himself with what was supposed to be—

A ballet studio.

A real, true ballet studio. Wall-to-wall mirrors, barres, smooth, polished floors, _everything_ that he had ever had back home. The nostalgic weight settling into his stomach had him feeling a little homesick. Of course, he wouldn’t be practicing ballet in this studio. Not for very long. Different memories would fill this room, memories he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep forever or erase completely.

Using the luxury of the empty room to his advantage, he changed into the leotard and shoved his clothes to one corner of the room where he figured they would be out of the way. He had already gathered that it wasn’t a men’s leotard, given the way it curved around his ass, but putting it on only made it more clear. His entire being was pronounced, stretching the fabric in areas that weren’t supposed to stretch, and the deep-v of the neckline was lined with sequins that were meant to give off a completely different silhouette.

Looking into one of the mirrors, though, he felt… beautiful. Twisting to the side accentuated the hard-earned muscles under the fabric. He felt like Psyche, the unwitting seducer of Eros, the human capable of tearing Eros from his pedestal. Pointing a foot and ghosting his arms around his chest and over his head released his reservations. He felt lithe and serene. Eyeing his form in the mirror had him reaching for his phone in an instant. He felt like he hadn’t danced for himself in so long.

An old favorite, a song from his youth blared from his phone’s tiny speaker as loud as he could force it to go. He set it down on top of his pile of clothes alongside his glasses and prepared himself at the center of the room, taking a breath at the end of the measure. He hadn’t stretched beforehand, and he didn’t have a dance belt on, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother with that now.

The lilting harmony carried him off, sending him across the room in a flurry of footwork and poise. His arms circled above his head as he chanced a short pirouette, one leg bent at the knee. He landed it with less ease than he would have preferred, but he supposed being out of practice for a few months would do that. Shaking it off, he let the music spin him around, kick his legs, and push him into that special headspace that he knew would only last for the music.

He danced his insecurities, spilling them from his fingertips and pointed toes, splaying them out as he leapt. His fear of not being good enough, for Vitya, for Phichit, for himself. His body sang what his lips could not, forming the words of a language not known by anyone else in the world. It sang of home, of beginnings old and new, of the emptiness he felt for so long, only to escape through wooden floors and studio lights. His spins whispered to the strings a lullaby of assurance, of a timid confidence that never came to him outside of his love for dance. His arabesque turned into an attitude variation, a small smile playing on his lips.

For his last jumps, he picked up his speed and spun his body horizontally, sending his free leg in a wide arch around his staying leg, foot pointed ever outwards. It may had been his imagination, but it felt right. It felt like he’d given some other feeling hiding deep inside him a chance to shine. It was new and it was young and he nourished it, garnering his strength to do it again.

As his muscles prepared to carry him upward again, his eyes caught a flash of silver stumbling into the room and his last foot couldn’t find it’s proper footing before he shot forward into the spin. It was too late, his body crashing down and tumbling across the floor. His fourth surprise of the day.

“Yuuri!” Vitya called in a mixture of awe and shock before suddenly appearing as a stark contrast against the blurry ceiling. “Are you okay?!”

Yuuri blinked, breathing hard. “V-Vitya! You’re fine, uh— I mean _I’m_ —”

Yuuri was cut off by a proffered hand and a gentle smirk. “You can call me Viktor, you know. We’re not filming yet.”

His fifth surprise in such short succession had Yuuri flustered. “A-ah, right, sorry,” he hesitated before taking Vitya’s— Viktor’s— hand and allowing himself to be picked up. As they stood face-to-face, Yuuri noticed a tinge of pink on Vitya’s— _Viktor’s,_ damn it— nose.

Viktor swallowed. “Your dance was beautiful.”

“How long have you been watching?” Yuuri asked, not quite terrified but not quite comfortable, either. He couldn’t pinpoint from where it stemmed. Being watched when he performed had always been a source of anxiety, but one person surely wouldn’t trigger that, he thought. It may have been because it was so sudden, so unannounced and unknown.  Or perhaps it was just that it happened to be Vitya— _VIKTOR_ — that had been watching.

“Long enough,” Viktor answered, but it wasn’t impatient or annoyed. It seemed almost reverent. “How long have you done ballet?”

Yuuri realized how close they were— with his hand still firmly in Viktor’s— and pushed himself back, breaking their contact. There was a minimal downward turn on the edge of Viktor’s lips. “Since I was old enough to, I guess. A friend of the family was a ballet instructor in my hometown.”

“Wow,” Viktor commented genuinely, “your form shows. Your attitude derriere in that last turn was angled perfectly.”

The sixth surprise of his day and they hadn’t even filmed yet. “Do you do ballet, too?”

Viktor nodded animatedly, an unfamiliar yet kind smile appearing on his face. “When I was young. I didn’t go too far but I enjoyed it. It kept me in shape.”

Yuuri knew those results from their first recording session. Now that he thought about it, his muscles had told it all. The way he was toned: Viktor had definitely been a dancer at some point in his life. But for those muscles to stay, he couldn’t have stopped dancing too long ago.

He was about to ask when Viktor moved on to a different subject. “Have you looked at our script yet? What do you think?”

Script? Oh. Right. The script to their scene. Their sex scene. In a ballet studio. The stage directions came flooding back to him and he knew his face was beginning to heat up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I read it. It was, uh— I think it’s—” probably too much too soon and he was probably going to come early again despite finishing three times earlier today. Not that he was going to say that to Vitya.

“A bit much?” Viktor asked. “‘Cause we can change the script again if you’re not ready.”

And that only solidified the notion in Yuuri’s mind that Viktor understood ballet as well as he did, that he had seen Yuuri’s dance the entire time and could read the story he’d put forth. The sentence revealed much more than either of them were sure of and it paled in comparison to what was equally unspoken. Later that night, Yuuri would pour over the details until he fell asleep from exhaustion, but for right now, there was a moment that was pure and untouched and _understood_. He let it be.

But his brain twisted the words with not a second to spare, attempting to put a language he could interpret to the feeling. It felt like something akin to inadequacy, but it wasn’t quite how he felt during their first recording. It was close enough for his demons to snag onto it, though.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri said in short, but it was unconvincing.

“I’m fine with taking it slow,” Viktor insisted. “This line of work can be a bit unforgiving to newbies. And Yakov means well. He would never make someone do something they weren’t ready for.”

“Then why would he assign something so… so…”

Viktor tilted his head, confusion flitting across his features. “Well, you _did_ leave quite the impression on him. It’s probably what he thinks you’ll be best at.”

What he was best at? That came as another surprise. Yuuri twiddled his fingers, disliking the way Viktor’s eyes were searching him. “I… I don’t know.”

Viktor had a finger to his lips, tapping in thought. “How about this: we can keep the first part of the script the same. Just so you can try it. Then I’ll take it over when you give me a signal. We’ll just switch the roles. Okay?”

Despite his initial reservations, Yuuri thought that Viktor was at least trying to be fair. Whether or not Viktor knew it was because Yuuri couldn’t hold a candle to Vitya without fear of getting burned, he was offering a valuable, unanticipated buffer. A buffer Yuuri could use to further steel himself. Perhaps surprises weren’t so bad. “What signal?”

* * *

Yuuri stretched his limbs out slowly, savoring the pull and regretting the twinge from not doing so before he’d danced earlier. Thankfully he hadn’t tired himself out before his class of one showed up for their regular session.

A knock on the door. Impeccable timing. “Come in,” Yuuri called out as he brought his arm into a wide arch over his head and brought his leg straight out, holding to the barre against the mirror. He focused on his form, the way his curves were heightened against the straining purple fabric, instead of the camera.

“Good morning, Instructor Eros,” Vitya walked in with a cheerful smile and a skip in his step. “How are you today?”

“Morning, Vitya,” Yuuri attempted his best teacher’s voice. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Vitya nodded, setting his bag down and taking off his jacket to reveal the top of a similar leotard. “What are we doing today, Instructor Eros?” He asked suggestively as he tugged the strings of his sweats free and let the fabric fall over his hips and down his legs.

Yuuri was about to start his next line when his eyes travelled down Vitya’s figure. His leotard was matte black, fitted to smooth over his body in ways that made it hard to look away. It also had a deep-v neckline, although his pectorals left little to the imagination in such an outfit. His hips stood out proudly against his silhouette and Yuuri had to stop himself from licking his lips, only to remember that the camera was asking him to do just that. He kept the movement small, still unsure.

“W-we’re going to work on your splits,” Yuuri stumbled, “we’ll start with some barre exercises.” He beckoned Vitya over with a curled finger and saw that Vitya’s eyes weren’t leaving his figure, roaming over his purple, nearly see-through leotard with the same intensity Yuuri had just moments ago. An unspoken agreement.

Vitya put a hand on the barre tentatively, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Will you show me what to do? I’m afraid I’m still new at this.”

“Of course,” Yuuri gulped, forcing himself to squash his shyness. Dancing was like acting. He could act if he imagined it as another routine with a solid theme. No problem. He set one hand on Vitya’s forearm, smoothing his hand over the muscles to his shoulder, squaring it and positioning it properly as his other arm reached down between his thighs to separate his legs.

Vitya’s breath hitched, over pronounced. Regardless, it spurred Yuuri on as he moved his hand from Vitya’s shoulder to his chest and pressed gently into his inner thigh to lift his leg. Vitya complied, bringing his leg straight out behind him in an arabesque. Yuuri nodded to himself as he walked around Vitya’s figure. He kept his fingers dancing over Vitya’s legs as he came around behind him, testing the man’s resolve. He saw the barest of tremors making their way down Vitya’s calf and his leg faltered.

“Ah-ah,” Yuuri admonished lightly, “keep your leg back,” he adjusted Vitya’s leg further back, mildly amused that the stretch gave way easily. Vitya could stretch back farther than this. He’d take full advantage of that knowledge shortly.

Vitya made a show of a wince as he looked back over his shoulder. “Instructor Eros, am I doing alright?”

“You’re doing wonderful,” Yuuri let the praise flow from his mouth because it was easy and true. Vitya didn’t need a teacher for this. “Now bring your legs back together, and out again. Repeat until I say to stop.”

Vitya agreed and closed his legs, muscles naturally relaxing. He repeated the motion again, and Yuuri yet again found his eyes drinking in the sight of Vitya’s body. Only this time he was blessed with an unadulterated view of Vitya’s behind while it stretched, constricted, relaxed, and tightened. His leotard, similar to Yuuri’s, also didn’t cover nearly enough to be appropriate, and Yuuri was reveling in it, a stifled groan sneaking past his throat.

“Instructor Eros?” Vitya’s voice snapped Yuuri to attention. Vitya was eyeing him over his shoulder with a keen smirk that wouldn’t be visible from the camera angle. “Am I properly stretched?”

 _Not nearly enough_ , Yuuri thought hungrily. “Show me your split from here, and I’ll tell you.”

Vitya wasted no time in swinging his leg up with ease, toe pointed toward the ceiling in a standing split. There was a slight tremble as he reached to top of the split that Yuuri caught onto immediately after years of watching ballet. His hand instantly went to Vitya’s thigh to steady him, only to find that Vitya definitely still did ballet in some form because his muscles were tight but in _no way_ were they too tight to stretch any further. Vitya could widen himself just a little more. Easily. The thought had Yuuri stroking the entire length of Vitya’s thigh appreciatively, his feet stepping closer before he realized it.

“Well?” Vitya asked.

Yuuri hummed approvingly. “I’d say you’re ready for some resistance training. Keep your stretch,” he ordered before biting his lip. There was no turning back from here.

Vitya looked like he’d been about to ask another question but was effectively silenced by Yuuri’s hands over his crotch and ass. There was a strangled noise that came from his lips that said he was surprised by the forwardness of his teacher.

“I said don’t falter,” Yuuri warned as he hiked Vitya’s leg straight back up and groped his ass. His cheeks wanted to burn, wanted to melt off his face, at the reality of what he was doing.

But Vitya’s pleased noises were encouraging him and he couldn’t help it. He kneaded his grip and let his hand on Vitya’s inner thigh, facing the camera, slide down sensually to the hemmed edge of his leotard. His fingers tickled the skin there lightly, teasing Vitya as he drank in the power he felt in the moment. He slipped one finger underneath the fabric and pressed circles into the skin just underneath Vitya’s— was he already hard?— cock. Instead of going for it, however, Yuuri retracted the finger and gripped him through the leotard tightly.

Vitya gasped, his high leg twitching. “Instructor…”

“Call me ‘Eros’,” Yuuri whispered into the shell of Vitya’s ear, the other man being bent at an angle that made him shorter than Yuuri for the moment. The shiver that Yuuri felt travel down Vitya’s spine was intoxicating, pushing him to test it further before he lost his confidence.

“E-Eros,” Vitya sighed, his split not dropping again.

Yuuri ground his palm over Vitya, letting the fabric ripple between them for more dulled, teasing stimulation. He used his nails to scratch traces of his outline, letting one flick over the very tip of Vitya’s head. He felt Vitya’s ass clench in his other hand and Yuuri had trouble remembering what he was supposed to do next.

“You stretch so well for me,” Yuuri recalled at last, his hand leaving Vitya’s cock to undo the snaps at the bottom of the leotard. As per usual for scenes, there was no underwear underneath and Vitya’s cock strained to fall free, head caught in the costume as it draped over him loosely.

Yuuri could help with that. He regretfully let go of Vitya’s ass to fist the costume and tug it upward, exposing the man’s abs, v-line, and dick. It bobbed from being jostled, keeping Yuuri’s attention as he peered over Vitya’s shoulder. It was flushed a nice, deep pink and it curved gently upward. It was a sight he hadn’t been prepared for, and he’d seen this dick many times from his laptop screen. In person, it was very, _very_ different while simultaneously seeming like the most familiar thing in the world to him.

Enraptured, with an ounce of fear beginning to mix with the pool of desire in his gut, Yuuri let his hands map out Vitya’s abs first to get used to the feeling. His skin was warm and inviting, but firm and an anchor for his ever-increasing haze. One hand still in the costume, he let his free hand caress downward, tracing Vitya’s barely-noticeable happy trail.

Vitya let out a pleased noise, still not dropping his split. It was admirable. Yuuri didn’t know many people who could hold this position for that long, let alone while distracted. He was too curious not to test that as he wrapped his fingers around Vitya’s cock for the first time. Yuuri’s breath came out shakily against Vitya’s shoulder and he stood still for a moment, gathering his resolve.

There was a sudden warmth around his own hand and Yuuri opened his eyes to see that Vitya had entwined their hands around him, urging Yuuri to begin moving. Yuuri moved with Vitya, setting a pace that was slow for the first couple strokes before it picked up much faster. Vitya’s hand fell away and his head lolled back, the quiet pants that were puffed against Yuuri’s cheek meant for his ears only. He twisted his wrist and pulled a little tighter, causing Vitya to _whine_ against him. Yuuri got the sudden urge to turn his head just so slightly, to bring their lips closer together.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw Mila moving the camera over so that it was facing them head-on. He froze. They weren’t alone, this wasn’t real, and Vitya was acting. Yuuri was supposed to be acting, too. Cursing silently, he slipped his hands away from Vitya.

“I’m going to work on my own stretches before we move on,” Yuuri supplied the reasoning that hadn’t been in the original script, sending a pointed look in Vitya’s direction before dropping to the floor with as much grace as he could muster.

He pushed the bottoms of his feet together and brought them in close, slowly pushing his knees apart until the hit the floor, the stretch causing him to groan in order to hide his embarrassment at nearly getting carried away. Through the squint of his eyes, he could see Mila’s brows raise in question, although they seemed to return to normal in response to something Vitya was whispering. Yuuri figured they’d cut that part out.

He tried to push the thoughts of failure from his mind. He wasn’t failing right now. It was just as he and Viktor had discussed before Mila came in and began setting up the scene. He wouldn’t be able to do what that script had planned for them. Not yet. He needed to work up to it. Maybe if he could convince himself of that for two months he could run away from the possibility of the embarrassment of ever having sex with Vitya.

He knew deep down he didn’t really think that, but the matter of the job at hand had him pushing both sets of thoughts aside as he stretched his legs out into a sitting split. In front of the mirror, he could see that his outline between his legs was also pronounced and barely contained by the leotard. He ignored it as he brought his arms straight up, stretching toward the ceiling. When he was satisfied with that, he slowly lowered himself until he was lying close to the floor, his split retained perfectly while his arms reached for where the mirrored wall joined the floor.

“Can I help you, Instructor Eros?” Vitya asked. Yuuri lifted his head enough to see him through the mirror. His leotard still unsnapped and resting high on his hips, but that didn’t seem to bother his student. “I must be able to repay the favor somehow,” he winked, although the shine in his eyes asked Yuuri if he was okay.

Yuuri nodded to both questions. “Press me into the floor,” he commanded, giving all control over to Vitya.

Vitya dropped to his knees and slowly sidled his way over until his cock was right up against Yuuri’s ass. He had to bite his cheek so that he didn’t gasp out loud because _Vitya the fucking Living Legend_ was about to do something Yuuri barely dared to fantasize about. And by barely, his mind really meant he thought about this and much more when and only when he knew his door was locked and he had stuffed his fist in his mouth to shut his moans up.

Vitya then leaned forward and pressed a hand with long, slender fingers in between Yuuri’s shoulder blades. He pushed lightly, then harder when Yuuri acquiesced. The pull in his muscles was slow, torturous, and yet so needed. He exhaled until his heated body touched the cool floor, shuddering with a groan for a moment before relaxing. It wouldn’t do to injure himself now.

“Shit,” Vitya stage-whispered, the hand on his back quivering almost imperceptibly. “You look so good like this, Eros.”

Eros. His persona. Viktor called him the god of sexual pleasure. It didn’t seem real, that he could cause anything like that for someone like Vitya, but the way that the man’s voice shook, Yuuri thought for once that it might be possible. As subtly as he could manage, he pushed his ass upward, if not to gain any height, then just to pronounce its shape.

Which did the trick, judging by Vitya’s sharp intake of breath. “Good _god_ , your ass, Y— Eros. You’ve got such a great ass.”

And with that, Vitya began rutting against him, his hand still pressing down on Yuuri’s back. It was even, laborious, and hard, the way Vitya’s dick slid between his cheeks even through the fabric. The leotard was also in the way underneath him, causing him to slip along the wooden floor every so often, which garnered little to no friction. It was enough to keep him hard— as if Vitya wasn’t doing that well enough already— and it was probably preferable over his bare skin catching on it with each thrust, but he didn’t want it to stay on for long.

Vitya put his hips into it, pushing himself in between Yuuri’s cheeks, his hips meeting Yuuri’s ass each time with a muffled slap. Yuuri moaned, his face pressed into the floor with his eyes on the mirror version of Vitya. He was bracing himself over Yuuri with that arm still on his back and his hair fell over his face cast downwards. Yuuri watched Vitya’s hips tick back and forth with purpose, watched as his own body was jostled, bouncing in response, watched as Vitya used him as a plaything while he was stretching his legs impossibly wide.

It was hotter than he thought it would be, his cock twitching painfully underneath him. Not appreciating the lack of space, he tried to push his hips up in the air to give himself minor relief. It was then that Vitya caught his eyes in the mirror. He smirked knowingly, bringing his hips back and snapping them forward, causing Yuuri to fall back down. Vitya then put his hand in between Yuuri’s legs and hiked his ass in the air by gripping his cock from outside the leotard.

Yuuri let out an embarrassing moan that turned into a squeak.

“You like that, Eros?” Vitya asked. “Do you like watching yourself? Because I can’t stop looking at you.”

Yuuri choked back a groan, Vitya’s voice affecting him far more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t like he could hide it though. He felt the precome begin to stain the front of his leotard where Vitya was holding him firmly. All he could do was add to the motions, grinding back on Vitya’s dick that he could see poking into view above his ass from the mirror.

Vitya had them continue rutting for another minute, more for the camera than anything, before he unsnapped Yuuri’s leotard clasps as well and roughly shoved the fabric up his back, nails scraping over his spine. He rutted bare a few more times, Yuuri now able to feel the ridges and head more clearly. He whined in need and wiggled himself against Vitya, watching the mirror for his reaction.

Vitya’s face was contorted, concentrated, but slowly losing himself to pleasure. Yuuri, seeing that he was causing this, decided to slowly bring his legs back together and clench his cheeks, capturing Vitya. There was a deep sound erupting from Vitya’s throat as he stilled, his dick throbbing terribly in the sudden stillness of the rest of their bodies.

“Fuck, stop, _cut_ ,” Vitya pulled away and sat back, grasping his dick at the base and squeezing what seemed to be impossibly tight, “ _purple_.”

* * *

At the sound of the safeword, Yuuri and Mila both turned to Viktor in shock, although probably for different reasons. Mila stopped the camera and ran over to where she’d brought in robes. She laid one carefully over Yuuri, who was still stuck in his split, and offered to help him up. Once they were standing, Yuuri tied his robe and risked a glance at Viktor.

He was still sitting on his ankles with his head bowed, entire body taut with a restrictive tension. Yuuri recognized the look and told Mila he was going to go to the bathroom quickly. She nodded, advising that as his best option right now, but said that he might need to be fluffed when he got back. Yuuri waved it off as he left the room.

When he walked out of the recording room, he headed immediately for the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall. No one was sitting outside in the main area, a fact for which he was grateful, but he still picked up his pace in case anyone were to walk out. He glanced at the other recording rooms and saw that none of the others on this floor were in use. Probably a good thing.

The bathroom was also empty, much to his relief, and he attempted to use a urinal. When he was done, he snapped his leotard back on, still feeling awkward about walking around a building with a hard-on underneath a thin robe. At least the leotard kept it upright against his abdomen, and it wasn’t going to go down anytime soon. Not after realizing that he’d caused Vitya to come close to finishing just by lying there. There was a part of him, quiet but insistent, that told him Vitya had done most of the work and basically done it all himself. Yuuri really had been just a plaything. The thoughts floated in and out, indecision and uncertainty bubbling below the surface.

He could do better. Try harder. He would make Vitya come undone again, this time by his own work.

Yuuri walked back into the recording room with a newfound determination that only _barely_ faltered when he saw Viktor smiling at him while Mila fluffed him, casually talking about her day like they were two friends at coffee. Yuuri wondered if Viktor ended up letting himself finish and get hard again. The idea that he could have a harder challenge in making Vitya come early set something alight for him.

“Yuuri!” Viktor greeted jovially, like he hadn’t been crumbling on the edge of an orgasm a couple minutes ago. “You ready to teach me that Battlement on Rond you did earlier?”

It took a moment before Yuuri could respond, but at least when he did he was proud of how he handled it. “If you know what it’s called then clearly you’ve done it before. Why don’t you show me instead?”

Viktor actually looked taken aback for a split second. “Doing that jump with an erection would feel funny.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri stated matter-of-factly, “it’d look funny, too.”

Viktor appeared thoroughly baffled. To be fair, Yuuri was acting different. “What is with Chris and you both? You saying I have a funny dick?”

“I could use that adjective,” Yuuri shrugged.

“Take that back,” Viktor warned playfully, “or you’re taking back your role. And I won’t go easy on you.”

Yuuri tilted his head with a mock pout on his lips. One he knew Vitya used to get his way. “From what I saw, you were already going pretty hard. Don’t think you can really go much more, huh?” Yuuri grinned.

Viktor narrowed his eyes, but his lips were cautiously turning upward. Mila laughed and clapped him on the back, breaking their newly formed staring contest. “Give up, Nikiforov. Think we’ve found you a match. Places, guys!”

There was something about what Mila said that had lights going off in Yuuri’s mind, but he was busy scrambling to get ready again and ignored it. He shucked off his robe and unsnapped his leotard back to the way it was before, only feeling a momentary bout of self-consciousness before noticing that Viktor had done the same. He’d even gone the extra mile and pulled it back up to where Yuuri had pulled it before. Yuuri copied him casually, meeting him at the barre they had been at previously.

Yuuri tried to keep his brave face on, tried to remember what he was setting out to do. It was difficult when Viktor was staring at him with haughty amusement.

“You haven’t seen hard yet,” Vitya provoked.

“You haven’t, either,” Yuuri instigated.

* * *

“Now for some balance work,” Instructor Eros turned to the barre and swung a straight leg over to rest his ankle on the smooth wood level with his waist. He turned his head over his shoulder in a mock posture of Vitya earlier. “Think you can handle that?” He asked with a subtle wiggle of his hips.

Vitya was lined up with him in an instant, his opposite leg resting on the barre with his hard cock against Yuuri’s ass. “Like this?”

Cheeky. “Perfect.”

Not taking a moment longer, their words long since unnecessary, Vitya pressed him right up against the mirror, only his abdomen not touching because it was pinned to the barre. The tip of his dick hit and slid precome along the mirror, cool to the touch. His nerves lit up one after the other, his mouth going dry.

Vitya meant business.

Yuuri held himself to the wall for the moment being, allowing Vitya to rail him against the mirror, watching with rapt attention as his breaths fogged up the glass. His dick hadn’t gone soft in the bathroom but he could feel himself noticeably harden at the roughness. When he accustomed to the pace, Yuuri squeezed his cheeks again. He saw a toned down reaction, telling him that Vitya was aware of his trick now.

What he hadn’t been anticipating was Vitya’s hand snaking its way up Yuuri stomach to his chest. His fingers pinched a nipple experimentally and Yuuri couldn’t stop the moan that released into the air. He pressed his forehead to the glass and became keenly aware of just how hard Vitya had caused his nipple to become. He rolled it between his fore and middle fingers, making sure the movements were never stagnant nor predictable. It had been a long time since they’d been played with, if Yuuri were honest with himself, and certainly much longer since they were practically abused like this.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Yuuri was then shoved against the mirror again, his nipples now chafing against the glass with each thrust. He blinked hard a few times, trying to collect himself. He had to throw Vitya off his game. Thinking quickly, he licked his lips and arched his neck back so that his mouth was next to Vitya’s ear.

“I like it rough,” he panted, “but I like _being_ rough better. Think you can handle that?”

Vitya stuttered, a foreign expletive tumbling from his lips. “You really like pushing buttons, don’t you?” He spoke in a hushed tone away from the camera. For this one moment, they were Yuuri and Viktor, Eros and Vitya forgotten.

But Yuuri couldn’t let his usual self completely resurface. If he let that happen, he’d lose his composure. And he hated losing.

“Get on the floor, Vitya,” Yuuri managed to get out between jarring thrusts, “we need to stretch before your session ends.”

“So soon?” Vitya pouted but eased himself off of Yuuri anyway.

With the sudden weight against him lifted, Yuuri felt the pressure on his abdomen melt away and he had to hold onto the barre until he regained his sense of balance on two feet. As soon as he felt some semblance of control, he turned and faced Vitya. A hand on his shoulder was all that was need to get him to sit on the floor. Yuuri went with him, pushing gently until Vitya’s back hit the wooden floor. Sitting at his side, he guided Vitya’s legs straight up until he was practically folded in half. For the time being, this would have to do.

He positioned his dick in the same way Vitya had done to him earlier when the anxious nerves hit him again. Sure, he could blame his current stamina on having finished three times before he left the house, but right now, it was the fact that _he_ was touching Vitya in a place he only ever saw online. He wasn’t the first, obviously, but for a brief instant, he wanted to be the _only_ one.

The thought scared him more than anything, but he couldn’t figure out the exact reason why.

So he sucked in a break and bucked his hips forward, one hand still up around Vitya’s ankles, holding him down in an embarrassingly compromising position. The heat was so tantalizingly mocking, a mere impostor of the heat he might feel if he were to be inside Vitya, but it would have to do. Because there was no way, nerves or no, that he would have lasted if they had stuck to having real sex like the scene originally called for.

Vitya moaned like— well, like a pornstar. And it got to Yuuri’s head like an aphrodisiac. Knowing he still had a challenge to win, he put his free hand between Vitya’s thighs to make room for his cock and began fucking into Vitya’s thighs at a punishing pace. He then reached around grabbed on tight to Vitya, pumping him in time, twisting and pinching at random, hard.

Mila had to run over with another camera to catch the new angle just above Vitya’s head. Yuuri imagined it picked up his sounds quite nicely.

But Yuuri wasn’t done. “Stretching really pays off, Vitya. And you _stretch_ so nicely,” Yuuri enunciated with a harder press to Vitya’s slit, rubbing fervently.

Vitya’s head fell back, mouth open on a soft ‘o’ as his eyes scrunched. “Fuck, Eros.”

“You’ll come back for more, won’t you?” Yuuri repeated Vitya’s question. He was getting close, his pace becoming erratic as the warmth of his skin seeped down to his abdomen and began to knot pleasantly.

“Ah,” Vitya choked out, his thighs constricting as a telltale sign, “ _ah_ , Eros— I’ll come—”

Yuuri realized too late that it was a warning as spurts of white covered Vitya’s stomach in one, two, three pulses. The sight before him, the sight he had not been graced with during their first recording, sent him over the edge as well. His come mixed with Vitya’s, covering the space between his thighs all the way up to Vitya’s neck. Yuuri stilled, gasping as Vitya’s thighs quivered again and one last pulse took everything out of Vitya.

It was strange. Yuuri found that that was the first time he’d ever finished around the same time with any partner he’d ever had. However, he was spent and hazy and boneless and couldn’t bring himself to really think much more than that. He leaned his forehead against the back of Vitya’s calves and released his grip on his ankles.

* * *

As Yuuri was signing his timesheet and getting ready to leave, Yakov handed him the next script. Curious, he leafed through it. His next session wasn’t until next week, so he hadn’t been anticipating getting a paper script so soon. His blush returned— he’d just gotten rid of it after helping Mila clean up the recording studio they had just been in. Both times they had finished recording, it felt like all energy drained itself from Yuuri’s hesitant brand of confidence and he returned to the meek, timid boy living in a foreign country. It was puzzling, more so to those around him, but Yuuri figured as long as it got him a paycheck, he could work with it.

He had to do something about Vitya’s constant criticisms, though. After this recording, too, Vitya resumed his ironically playful seriousness and picked apart practically everything he did. It was like what they’d just recorded hadn’t happened at all, like Vitya and Viktor truly were two different people. It always put Yuuri a little down in the dumps. The new script didn’t ease his mood in the slightest.

On his way out of the studio, quick footsteps made their way to him. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri and Yurio— who was still at the front desk though he appeared to be gearing up to leave for the day as well— turned to Viktor. When Yurio realized who Viktor was talking to, he scoffed and left the room toward Yakov’s office.

“Viktor?” Yuuri’s brows furrowed. He’d almost called him Vitya again. Seemed like he was going to have the opposite problem that the rules were concerned with.

“You got the new script, right?” He asked as he came up to Yuuri at the front door.

At Yuuri’s nod, Viktor continued. “Well, since I _am_ your coach—” only for a month, but Viktor didn’t mention that— “I figured I should be giving you pointers.”

“You’ve already given me pointers,” Yuuri retorted, “several, in fact.”

Viktor almost looked sad, but his smile quickly replaced it. “I was thinking more along the lines of specific ones for us. ‘Cause I’d like to know more about you, Yuuri. We should know more about each other if we’re going to be working together.”

That gave Yuuri pause. This didn’t seem like the Vitya that Eros continued to goad and challenge in the recording studios. This didn’t sound like the Vitya that singlehandedly garnered the largest fanbase in the adult movie industry. This didn’t look like the Vitya that sternly lectured him on every minor detail while cleaning up his sticky body and mussed up hair.

“Do you wanna grab coffee or lunch over the weekend?”

It was then that Yuuri realized he had stopped counting. Viktor, as it turned out, was an unending chain of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Yuuri's emotions are all over the place this chapter. Just how his anxiety wanted it.
> 
> I wanted to thank you guys so much for the incredible amount of support you're showing for this fic so far. It means so much to me. <3
> 
> I'm travelling back to my apartment today (spring break is unfortunately over) and I've gotta go back to committing full-time to my thesis. Chapters will be once a week from here on out (I'll try and pick a different day than Sunday, though; I wanted this chapter up yesterday but life got in the way and I'm still kinda sick). I'll reply to you guys hopefully in a couple days.


	4. In Your Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When I open up, he meets me halfway." - Katsuki Yuuri
> 
> At least they are miscommunicating on the right track?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially supposed to be much shorter but it just sorta took over and well here we are. Downside is this may not be updated in a week. My thesis is supposed to be finished in two weeks and I'm a tad behind. 
> 
> And I forgot to do this last chapter but I'll be acknowledging those of you who've given me some wonderful suggestions for this fic! If I miss you, please let me know! I take down notes every time someone suggests something but idk if I might've messed up somewhere. For the previous chapter, you can thank carpemermaid and an anon that went by the name "Anon anon anon."
> 
> For this chapter, you can thank fujoshi_life, Sakasho, frozen_miruku, and Kamishii. And a nod and a wink to jellydonut16's fic is in here, too.
> 
> That's right. I'm outing all of us for our kinks. Have fun bonding over them~

Yuuri said no, naturally, and spent the weekend with his flustered face stuffed into his pillows instead. In retrospect, he was about as productive as he would have been otherwise. He still called his family at a time convenient for both of them, talked about his week— _without_ mentioning his new workplace— and his goings on, and he still fawned over pictures of Vicchan that his sister Mari sent him. In fact, this weekend he had even been able to video chat with Vicchan, something he definitely couldn’t have done had his weekend been booked by one more riveting event.

Like getting coffee with a pornstar.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get coffee with Viktor. That would have been fine. Perhaps a little embarrassing because Viktor seemed to not have a single reservation in his personality, but fine. Getting coffee with _Vitya_ , on the other hand, was an endeavor he wasn’t sure he could have taken on. Whether it be the weird stares they’d be sure to get, or the things Vitya would want to give him pointers on, or the thoughts that Yuuri’s brain with drift towards subconsciously, it would have been tough to just order the coffee. Viktor, though, probably would have ordered the coffee for him. Unfortunately, Vitya and Viktor were the same person, and that provided quite the predicament.

Between the two, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t have survived.

He wondered what coffee Viktor would recommend.

He wondered what sexual position Vitya would recommend.

Frustrated that he couldn’t think about one without the other, Yuuri rolled over on his bed and let out a muffled groan. He heard his phone fall to the floor but he couldn’t have cared less. What he cared about right now was the silence. It had been nice for the first twenty-four hours of the weekend, but the next twenty-four were going to be the most difficult. It seemed his dormant anxiety that had been building since he’d started working at _SV_ _Studios_ preemptively decided torturous limbo was the perfect frame of mind for its ramblings.

Yuuri wanted to believe that Vitya had asked him to coffee as a colleague. He hoped Viktor had asked him as a…

Well, Viktor and he weren’t _anything_ really, were they? Barely even acquaintances.

Acquaintances that had played with each other’s dicks.

_Yuuri 0 - Brain 1._

Strangers played with dicks all the time, though. He’d lived in Detroit long enough to understand the English euphemism behind the red light district, accidentally stumbled upon it once or twice by accident, perhaps. Those things happened every day.

_Yuuri 1 - Brain 1. Tie._

But Yuuri and Viktor weren’t necessarily strangers, either. Yuuri didn’t know what they were, and he wasn’t sure why a part of himself was even trying to label it. It shouldn’t matter; they’re two people who happen to work at the same place. The same porn studio. Minor details.

It took hours of deafening silence before Yuuri forced himself up from his bed, grabbed his phone, and walked out into the kitchen. Phichit would be back home soon and he wanted to at least appear like he’d done something with himself today. The dishes on the rack were put away and he absentmindedly wiped down the counters. He wondered, pausing, if the studio had any kitchen scenes, or if they could be set up at all. He wouldn’t mind being picked up and slammed onto the counter and—

Yuuri tossed the dirty disinfectant wipe into the trash with a growl, like it had offended him. At least only his thoughts were acting like a hormonal teenager, and not anything below the waist for once.

Phichit came home a few minutes later to a couch-ridden Yuuri scrolling through some site he could vaguely recognize through the reflection of his glasses.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Phichit greeted, setting some plastic bags down on the counter, “have a fun time with Vitya?”

Yuuri looked up, confused. “No… h-how’d you know about that?”

“You didn’t…?” Phichit froze, one boot falling from his foot in midair. He forgot about his current state of undress and walked further into the apartment, staring at Yuuri incredulously. “You _didn’t go_? You turned down a date with Vitya?!”

“I— well, we’re not— yeah?” Yuuri was caught off guard by the question. It hadn’t been a _date_. It couldn’t have been. They weren’t allowed to date. So he just assumed Phichit was just being his overly enthusiastic self like usual. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Phichit rolled his wrist in a carefree, explanatory motion. “Chris mentioned today that he overheard Vitya asking you out after work. You should’ve gone, Yuuri, I hear he’s made so much bank he swims in it. He probably would have bought you gold-infused coffee. Just _imagine_.”

“It’d be hard to imagine anything when I’d be sitting across from the world’s greatest pornstar,” Yuuri pointed out dryly. “And that would have just made me feel like I’d only be around him for his money.”

Phichit sighed. “I was only kidding, Yuuri. Besides, you’re working with your greatest fantasy now. I think you could have indulged him a little and gone on that date. He seems interested in you. And I _know_ you’re just as interested.”

“It wasn’t a _date_ ,” Yuuri corrected vehemently, ignoring Phichit’s apparent knowledge of his fantasies. It was a fair assessment, but Yuuri wasn’t about to ask his roommate and best friend how he found out about these intimately embarrassing details. “He was just going to give me pointers for our next shoot.”

Phichit blinked once, twice, then a smile cracked his mask and laughter floated upward. “Okay,” he sputtered out in between giggles, “I think I get it now. There’s no way you would have gotten through two minutes of Vitya telling you how to fuck him in _any_ scenario, let alone in a busy coffee shop.”

Yuuri wanted to say, to insist, that that wasn’t what they would have talked about, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not it would have been the case. Knowing Vitya, it probably would have. Vitya talking about the best way to handle a dick with fervent hand gestures was not something Yuuri wanted to witness in public.

Perhaps in a more private scenario…

“Did he say that you needed pointers? Are you that bad at it?” Phichit raised a doubting brow.

“Ah, n-no,” Yuuri muttered, biting his lip. Then, in a nearly inaudible tone, “we haven’t done it yet.”

Phichit’s eyes went wide. “You haven’t?”

“Of course not. I’ve only worked at the studio for two days, Phichit,” Yuuri reminded him. “And I only had my papers in for one of them.”

“I fucked on my first day,” Phichit reasoned with obviousness in his tone, “with that Chris guy, too. Let me tell you, he _definitely_ knows what—”

“Phichit,” Yuuri warned, the colors beginning to flush his cheeks.

“Right, right, anyway,” Phichit sat down next to him, “how’d you get away without having sex yet? None of the scripts are written for anything less than a blowjob.”

Not something Yuuri had known, but now that he did, the new script made much more sense. But did that mean that the two shoots they had done so far were in vain because they didn’t involve straight up sex? Did their last one count in any way? “Well, Vitya changed our script so that I could get used to it all. Though, to be honest, I never remember any of the script past the first few lines.”

Phichit waved it off. “They’re not that important. But Yuuri, Vitya changed the script? For you? You can’t tell me he asked you to coffee just for coffee’s sake. He totally likes you. Or at least _really_ wants to have mind-blowing sex with you.”

“Not helping,” Yuuri’s flush wasn’t lessening and neither was his growing agitation.

“He likes you.” Phichit put a reassuring hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as he stood, offering a consolatory smile. “Just, talk to him some more. It doesn’t hurt to get to know someone you’re going to be having sex with for the next month.”

Yuuri nodded, not quite feeling better but not feeling any worse, either. The idea that Viktor might be interested in him would only put both their jobs in danger and he wasn’t about to risk Vitya’s entire career based on just thinking that Viktor might like him. But it was also unlikely that Viktor liked him, so it might not even be that big a deal. His anxiety liked to blow things out of proportion, after all.

The next morning, Yuuri rehearsed his lines before work. Several times he spaced out after reading Vitya’s name, imagining their scenario and getting lost in the vividness that teased him, knowing it was going to happen later today. His stream of consciousness stuttered on that beautiful face, though, and he had to return to where he’d left his lines and try them again. It was a simple scene and he wouldn’t be required to do much anyway, the camera being mostly on Vitya. Which made sense, really, because he was the more well known of the two. Yuuri didn’t think he’d rise through the ranks of porn popularity from two videos.

It was on his sixth, maybe seventh, time of forgetting his lines in favor of remembering the curve of Vitya’s lips that he gave up. He submitted to his fantasy, made more sensitive by the knowledge that it would become reality very soon. It didn’t take long before he’d been sated twice over from that idea alone.

Thus, he was in a significantly better mood as he walked into _SV Studios_ , waving to Yurio at the front desk and offering his greeting with a curt nod. The teenager raised an eyebrow initially, with that same disinterested scowl, but didn’t say anything. If he were about to, Yuuri didn’t see it.

The moment Yuuri walked into Yakov’s office he was met— more like assaulted— by a mass of light brown fur tackling him to the ground. There was suddenly no air in his lungs as the entirety of his backside fell to the floor with a heavy thud. His surprised yelp was cut short by his attempts to breath again, which were cut short in turn by a large, slobbery tongue slathering his entire face, skewing his glasses in the process. Yuuri, after the initial shock wore off, began to giggle. It reminded him a lot of Vicchan.

“Makkachin! No, down!” Viktor came into view, a mildly concerned Yakov appearing just behind. Viktor knelt down and grabbed a hold of the dog’s— Makkachin’s— collar to free Yuuri from the fluffy prison. “Yuuri, are you okay? Makkachin!”

The poodle, Yuuri realized, refused to listen, eyes still gleaming with excitement and body gluing to Yuuri’s in a desperate cuddle. The tugs at his collar ruffled his fur but did nothing to abate his curiosity. He barked lightly, wagging his tail in Viktor’s face, which effectively had Viktor half-smirking and half-wincing.

Yuuri shook his head as another giggle escaped his lips. “I’m fine,” he managed, “your poodle just surprised me, is all.”

Viktor, after getting smacked in the face with the dog’s tail one more time too many, let go of the collar with a sense of relief. “He usually doesn’t jump on people. He must really like you.”

Yuuri ruffled the dog’s ears with familiar affection. “Makkachin, was it? He’s cute.”

Viktor beamed brighter than a lighthouse, his eyes shining like sunlight that danced across the surface of the ocean. “Isn’t he? I got him when I was young, and he’s still got all this energy. Sometimes I think he’ll outlive me.”

Yuuri kept petting Makkachin, since neither of them were all that insistent on moving apart, and felt a pang of sadness. Of homesickness. He wondered if Vicchan would jump on him when he came home like Makkahin had. He wondered how Vicchan would react to meeting Makkach—

“I’ve got to bring him back home, though,” Viktor’s voice cut through Yuuri’s thought, “Yakov won’t let Makkachin stay in his office while we film,” he ended with a comically sour pout.

“I don’t allow dogs in the studio _at all_ ,” Yakov clarified. “You know that, Vitya.”

“But Makkachin doesn’t do well all alone,” Viktor reasoned, “he misses me!”

“You film everyday. He’s used to it,” Yakov rebutted, “please, just take him home. You’ll be late for filming at this rate, so make it quick.”

Viktor sighed and stood, his cheerful disposition covered by resignation. He whistled twice, lilting sharply on the second one. Makkachin stilled before clambering off of Yuuri and following a dejected Viktor out the door to the front area.

Then there was a flicker, just a brief instant, of the mirth Yuuri had seen in his eyes just a moment ago as Viktor turned to him, looked to Makkachin, then back at him. He walked back over to Yuuri and offered a hand like he had last week. Still piecing together the enigma that was Viktor, Yuuri took his hand and let Viktor help him stand.

“Would you like to come with me? It’s not far and I think Makkachin would like it if you came along,” Viktor nodded to Makkachin, who was propping the door open with his waggling hips expectantly. Viktor himself had that same hopeful gleam in his eyes as Makkachin. Like owner like pet. It was cute. It was like Vicchan. The pull Yuuri felt was practically physical.

“I’d just be waiting around for you otherwise,” Yuuri answered.

Before the sentence was even finished, Viktor had taken ahold of Yuuri’s hand and dragged him out of the studio, waving a temporary, lighthearted goodbye to Yurio as they passed.

It was once they were outside and had walked down and around the first corner that Viktor slowed down and carefully let go of Yuuri’s hand, as if afraid he would hurt him. The warmth that escaped from his palm left it strangely devoid of… something. Something other than heat. Yuuri couldn’t place it, so he let himself be content to walk in between Viktor and Makkachin, who was rubbing his wet nose all over Yuuri’s other hand. Yuuri indulged and pet him a few times, savoring the coarse, curly fur that reminded him of the cozy couch cuddles in his parents’ inn.

For it being November in Detroit, the air was oddly warm. The breeze, not so much, but Yuuri had his favorite scarf wrapped loosely around his neck so he gladly turtled himself into the fabric. Snow hadn’t yet settled into the area yet, and if it had snowed at all, it never stayed long enough to stick around without melting. Their breaths puffed into the air, wisping in short clouds before dissipating into the cityscape around them, invisible once again.

“I haven’t seen Makkachin like this in a long time,” Viktor said, breaking the silence between them with words that cut into the crisp air, reverent and amused at the same time.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully. “I have a dog, too. Maybe he can just tell I’m a dog person.”

“You do?” Viktor perked up. “We should take them to the dog park together! I wonder if they’d get along… oh, what kind of dog is it? What’s it’s name?”

Surprised and a little flustered that Viktor would not only suggest something like that but also indirectly invite him, Yuuri had to take a moment to word his response. “I— he’s not here. In Detroit, that is. His name’s Vicchan. He’s, uh, he’s also a poodle. Smaller than Makkachin, though.”

Viktor led them to a crosswalk when Yuuri noticed that Makkachin wasn’t leashed. He stayed by their side and sat down beside them as they waited for the pedestrian light. “Vicchan? Another poodle? Yuuri, that’s adorable! Why isn’t he here in Detroit, though?”

“He’s at my home in Japan, with my family,” Yuuri explained. “They own an inn and hot springs. The guests there really like Vicchan, and he’d have a hard time flying all the way to the U.S., so he stayed at home. He’s pretty old.”

Viktor nodded, a deep understanding in his eyes that Yuuri couldn’t fathom. “I don’t know what I’d do without Makkachin. I had to take him with me when I moved. I didn’t have anyone that would take him in,” his voice was bordering on solemnity, quiet and low, before he smiled in Yuuri’s direction again, “do you have a picture of Vicchan?”

Yuuri nodded, taking out his phone despite the frigid air biting his fingers. The pedestrian light turned green and they picked up their pace once again. He lit up the screen and showed Viktor his lockscreen background. It was of Vicchan laying on his back, curling around with his tongue lolling out, eyes shut and mouth wide in a toothy smile. “That was him yesterday when I skyped with my family.”

Viktor put his hands over Yuuri’s phone, and by association over Yuuri’s fingers, to steady the image. His lips slowly curved upward until his entire face broke character. The blush on his nose was more than just cold air and his mouth practically formed a heart. His eyes became that same oceanic scene as before. Yuuri realized his heart was pounding. “He’s so cute! And he’s full grown?”

“Mh,” Yuuri agreed, embarrassed that he was being affected by Viktor’s accidental touches, because honestly, he had seen Viktor's naked body—   _touched_ that body— before.

They parted after crossing when Viktor had to direct them to the next street over. They walked in a different sort of silence, then, but it was one that Yuuri had trouble deciphering. He had always been comfortable with silences, but this one seemed too pleasant to occur. Too easy, like they’d known each other forever. Not like they were acquaintances.

Viktor held open a glass door to an apartment complex that looked more like a hotel than a series of apartments. Makkachin bounded in first, oblivious to the pair locking eyes. Yuuri walked in after a word of thanks, immediately feeling Viktor’s eyes at his back. Unlike other instances, however, the sensation wasn’t hostile. If anything it was gentle, curious. Yuuri felt like he could sense Viktor’s very thoughts.

He brought the three of them to the elevator and they got out at the very top floor. Outside the elevator was a package that Viktor picked up without question. He handed Yuuri a special key that opened the only room there, seeing as holding the box took both his hands. Yuuri opened the door, giving way to a steely, spacious, open-floor plan. The only rooms walled off seemed to be a bedroom in the far corner and the bathroom. The kitchen island was polished marble that looked like it had never been— and should never be— used. The entire apartment, in fact, looked…

It looked empty. Not lived in.

Viktor set the package onto the counter and slipped his shoes off by the door. Puzzled, Yuuri stood in the doorway. “Aren’t we just dropping off Makkachin?”

Viktor turned to him with a cheeky smile. “I wanna take care of this package first. I’ve been waiting for it to come in. Wanna see?”

“What is it?”

“My new toys I ordered,” Vitya grinned wider.

Yuuri gaped, both relieved and cursing himself that he was still wearing his scarf. It hid his blatant shock but it only added to the blush on his cheeks because it was very warm in here compared to outside.

The best thing Yuuri could come up with as a response was this: “I thought those were ordered by the studios.”

Viktor laughed. “They are, but these are my personal ones. Camming, too, when I find the time.”

Very potent images flooded Yuuri’s brain at that moment, vivid enough that he swore Viktor would be able to see them reflected in Yuuri’s glasses. Of course he knew what Viktor was talking about, like he’d ever miss out on anything Vitya the Living Legend put online. He thought he’d seen Vitya use all the toys possible out there. How could he have found more? Yuuri had to admit he was curious to see, but a part of him was also felt like an intruder.

“W-We really shouldn’t— we have to get back to the studio,” Yuuri offered dumbly.

Viktor shrugged. “I come in late all the time. Despite what you see, Yakov’s a big softie. He always forgives me.”

 _Probably because you’re the most famous person on the internet, Vitya._ Yuuri bit his tongue, not providing any further branches in the conversation.

Viktor dug through a drawer and produced a pair of scissors, snipping away at the packing tape without waiting for a response from Yuuri. There was a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he tore the cardboard open and removed the packing peanuts and bubblewrap. The first object he plucked from the box was a collection set of four plugs, each with very _interesting_ shapes to them. Upon Viktor opening the box and pulling one out to inspect it further, Yuuri recognized the button settings on the side. Viktor also pulled out a remote.

Then he clicked the first button and they both watched the vibrations gently rattle Viktor’s hand. Their eyes caught again but the sense of tenderness was definitely _not_ there now. It had been replaced by something far more akin to Yuuri’s recent fantasies.

“How far away do you think the remote will work?” Viktor asked, accentuating his last words with an increase in settings.

Yuuri couldn’t help burying his face in his hands, too thoroughly abashed to think about what Viktor meant, let alone to actually answer him. “Viktor, please.”

Viktor let out a long sigh, shut the toy off and put it away, before closing the package again, noticeably not picking up the other things, the bars and wires and nuts and bolts that belonged to some elaborate dissected contraption, that were still inside, unopened. “How can you be so embarrassed here and yet at the studio be so…”

“Hm?” Yuuri peered through his fingers.

Viktor eyed him carefully, his playful demeanor still there but joined by confusion. “You’ll need toys, you know. Not for the shoots.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked, although he had a few toys himself anyway and thus didn’t really need the answer.

“You need to be prepped before each shoot if you’re bottoming. It makes the intense scenes more bearable.

“Ah,” Yuuri said, eyes spotting a peculiar, captivating speck of dust on the floor at his feet. “That makes sense. Uh, thanks.”

Viktor smiled again. “Of course! You can use one of mine if you’d like. I’ve got plenty, and they’re all clean. I can’t use all of them all the time, anyway. I promise I’ll pick you out a good one!”

Yuuri had seen several videos and cam sessions that could definitely attest to the contrary, but he didn’t mention them for obvious reasons. “No! No, no, it’s, uh, it’s fine. I have some.”

Viktor blinked. “Pointers, then?”

“Ah, no,” Yuuri mumbled again, shifting his weight to one foot. Then he saw a second pair of socked feet in front of his. Startled, Yuuri backed up and hit the door. Viktor wasn’t actually that close, but he was closer than before and he was staring at Yuuri with a strange, curious intensity.

“What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?” Viktor asked. His hand twitched, inching forward to touch Yuuri but apparently decided against it. He stood respectfully apart, awaiting for Yuuri’s honest answer. “A coach?”

“N-No, well— not exactly,” Yuuri vaguely provided.

“A colleague, then? A friend?” Viktor was reaching out for words, for roles that he could play.

Yuuri knew in his heart that these labels didn’t sound right. Not any of them. “No.”

Viktor leaned back, a hand loose on his hips and his weight on one foot. He pursed his lips in thought, gears turning as he looked at Yuuri intently. “Then your boyfriend, I guess,” Viktor supplied with an upward lilt, “I can try my best.”

“NO!” Yuuri practically yelled, causing both of them to jump in surprise. “No, no, no. No. I just— I want you to stay who you are, Viktor!”

And as the words left his lips, he saw Viktor’s face change. There wasn’t that cheerful disposition, not a scowl or an admonishment or critique or the hint of a mask. His lips were downturned, but he didn’t look angry, mad, or hurt. Just confused. Conflicted. His eyes were lost.

Yuuri had to backpedal, explain. “I— It’s weird. Seeing the you that’s in the studio and the you that’s not. I didn’t want you to have to make another you just for my benefit, especially not after you would see my shortcomings. That I'm not any good at this at all. That’s why I didn’t get coffee with you the other day. Sorry.” _And the two versions of you that I know are already hard to handle and pushing for a third would put us both over the edge of a cliff we should never venture toward in the first place._ Yuuri swallowed and looked away.

“Yuuri, your shortcomings are things you can fix,” Viktor tilted his chin upward so that their eyes could meet, but his fingers didn’t linger like their other touches. “And I can help with that, if you let me.”

He just wanted to help. “As yourself?”

“As myself,” Viktor promised, putting his coat and shoes back on before holding the door open for Yuuri again.

On his way out, Yuuri smiled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

Yuuri typed out his next bulk email to his subordinates, making sure the grammar was what was expected of the CEO at the company. Something tedious, just a quick notice about an upcoming event he would be attending. As soon as he had the numbers on RSVPs and other paperwork he would send out the details. He said as much, proofread, and hit send. He clicked around the company site, checking to see if the programmers and coders had set it up right. He wouldn’t stand for errors in such a professional space. He took a sip of his coffee and set it back down methodically, delighted by the crisp clack of ceramic against the glass top on his desk.

There was a knock on his office door. Yuuri glanced up, an eyebrow cocked. “Come in.”

The new intern walked in. Vance or something like that. The guy with silver hair and a big forehead. Yuuri thought he remembered hiring him last week. Or last year. He couldn’t be sure. One thing he was sure of? The intern had a great figure. He tried to remain professional as he walked up to Yuuri’s desk looking awfully nervous.

“Mr. Eros, sir,” Vincent began, a few papers crinkling in his grasp, “I have the numbers you asked for from Mr. Giacommetti and—”

“Are they good?” Yuuri interrupted.

“E-excuse me, sir?” Vladimir asked, his accent slipping.

“The numbers,” Yuuri pointed. “Are we good?”

“I, uh, I don’t know, I haven’t read the—”

“You didn’t read the reports of the company you’re interning at… Vernon?” Yuuri tested.

Vaughn looked puzzled. “I-It’s Vitya, sir. And no, I didn’t think it was my place to read them. They look like they should be seen by someone a bit more important than I am. Sir.”

Vitya. Yuuri supposed he could remember that. “Well, _Vitya_ , my eyes are tired. Staring at screens all day tend to hurt them. You’ll have to read them for me.”

The man shifted back and forth on some unheard thought.

“Well?” Yuuri instigated. “Or are you not qualified to read, either? I can drop you from the company, if you prefer—”

“No!” Vitya surged forward, tripping on a corner of the carpet and stumbling onto the desk. He tried to brace his hands as they slipped on the glass, the papers flying off in every direction, various knick-knacks shoved around, Yuuri’s coffee mug tipping over. As if it were in slow motion, they both stared as the coffee spilled over the table and onto Yuuri’s expensive suit pants. The liquid was quickly beginning to stain the desk, fry his laptop, and burn through the fabric. Vitya froze in place where he was bent over the desk, ass noticeably in the air for a distant camera. Yuuri stiffened, a sneer threatening to tug on his lips.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, Mr. Eros,” Vitya gasped, “really, I am. I can make it up to you. I’ll—”

“You’ll suck me off,” Yuuri glared, the line from his lips coming off more confident than he felt with the anticipation building up inside.

“S-sir?” Vitya got up from the desk and came around to Yuuri’s side. “Did I hear you right? Because I can run and get you—”

“U-Unzip me and suck me off,” Yuuri repeated, faltering now that Vitya was getting closer, “the pants are ruined anyway.” He leaned back and glanced elsewhere in the room, pretending to be aloof while really wanting to pull Vitya’s hair so that he was down at hip level.

“Of course, sir,” Vitya smiled that retail employee smile, one that was easy and forced and ready to please. He knelt down to the floor in front of Yuuri’s swivelling leather chair, hands smoothing their way up his thighs. His fingertips glanced over the tighter folds in Yuuri’s lap and played with the waistband, skin dipping in occasionally to brush against skin.

Yuuri took a deep breath. This was nothing. They’d been skin to skin before. Not in this particular scene, he had to remind himself. But he couldn’t think about those. He had to concentrate on this one. Concentrating was becoming hard, though, as was something else, when Vitya inched his face closer and closer to Yuuri’s crotch.

When his lips pressed a hot breath against the wet fabric, Yuuri’s body twitched before he could disguise it. The sudden temperature change down there had lit his nerves up. But if that was bad, it became worse as he felt Vitya’s tongue lap up the patch of coffee stain, humming as he tasted the— what flavor coffee had it been? Yuuri’s mind blanked as he tried to force his body to relax. Vitya continued outlining the stain, and his length, with that tongue. It wasn’t even on his skin directly and already Yuuri wanted to moan. How on earth did something as simple as this feel like the greatest thing ever?

Vitya’s fingers worked at the button and zipper without him even looking at it, still devoting his proper attention to Yuuri’s growing erection. His mouth was only gone for a moment before Vitya wrapped long, cold fingers around his cock and pulled it to stand at attention mere inches from his face. The bare connection of his hot, eager breath sent ironic chills up Yuuri’s spine. It was in the back of his mind that Yuuri realized this was the first time Vitya had ever touched his cock.

Viktor glanced up at Yuuri with a hidden question in his gaze, one finger on Yuuri’s right digging in once, twice.

Yuuri realized he was supposed to say a line and pick up the camcorder conveniently lying on the opposite edge of the desk. “How’s my cock look to you?” Yuuri asked, hoping he looked slightly demure. Admittedly, that was difficult as he flipped open the viewfinder and hit record.

Vitya licked his lips slowly, pumping a few languid strokes for Yuuri at the same time. “Delicious, sir.”

“Then suck me like you want a promotion,” Yuuri ad libbed, impatient and annoyed that the friction Vitya had been giving him was all to tease.

Vitya knew it, too. Oh, he _knew_ it. But he also knew Yuuri was becoming frisky. Whether or not that was something he liked, Yuuri couldn’t be sure. It was in the script, after all.

Whatever was in the script, nothing compared to the instantaneous gratification of Vitya’s lips kissing the tip, sucking slow and hard until Yuuri’s head passed his makeshift rim. Yuuri’s head leaned back in the chair, his arms quivering despite his best efforts to keep the camera still. He adjusted it to make sure Vitya’s face was most of the shot, admiring the way the camera made him glow.

Yuuri took a mental step back to process it all. The world’s most famous pornstar was kneeling in front of him, sucking his dick. If he weren’t so overwhelmed by the picture of it, he’d have felt the power trip. Silver hair fell over half of Vitya’s face, loosened from being tucked behind his ear earlier. His eyelashes fluttered like silver wings over the tops of his cheeks. Yuuri watched with rapt attention as Vitya’s lips massaged his head, rolling back and forth over his corona with varying pressures. So far, he hadn’t used his tongue yet. Yuuri wondered if he would survive something like that.

To wonder no longer, Yuuri shuddered as something textured and hot licked a stripe from one side of his head over the slit to the other. It was laborious and definitely timed like that on purpose. A soft but surprised moan came from his lips. But before he could revel in the feeling, Vitya’s mouth was gone, the cool air suddenly frigid on his sensitive head.

Yuuri’s head snapped back down with a question on his lips when he saw that familiar devilish grin plastered on Vitya’s face. His eyes were instigating him, goading him into submitting. Then, Vitya leaned closer, letting Yuuri’s dick slide across his cheek as he brought his lips to the side of his base. He latched on without pretense and sucked at the skin between the base and his balls, more to tease than to provide any sort of relief. His tongue would flick across where his lips held him in place before inching his mouth of the shaft and repeating the motion. As he came back to the head again, Vitya paused, looking over Yuuri’s dick in consideration.

Then, in a move that would have been considered grammatically although not technically correct, he literally blew cold air over the wet areas he’d created. Cheeky little intern.

But Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to say that because the tingling sensation that shot from the length of his cock lit every nerve from the base of his spine up to his neck, raising the hairs on end. It was ridiculous, how simultaneously on fire and frozen Yuuri felt just then. He’d had blowjobs before, and recorded by a camera or not it should not have felt any different. He may have entertained the fantasies of pornstars being absolutely amazing sex partners, but he also knew better. He knew how the industry overacted, over pronounced, hyped up every movement and moan. Vitya should not be this good.

Then again, Vitya _was_ on top of the world. Clearly there was a good reason for it. A spark of jealousy intertwined with the warmth knotting inside him for the other people Vitya had worked with before. Vitya seemed to think it good, which it was, and continued the same ministrations on the opposite side, savoring the torture.

“Good god,” Yuuri swore under his breath, hoping the mic didn’t catch it, “stop teasing.”

Vitya backed off, much to Yuuri’s panicked chagrin, and sat on his haunches. His fingers splayed over the top of Yuuri’s suit pants, pointedly ignoring his flushed erection standing out in contrast against the black suit he wore. Vitya looked almost longingly at it, eyes slowly making their way up to Yuuri’s as he bit his swollen, glistening lips. Yuuri remembered the camera in his hand and pointed it at him, marveling at the way Vitya looked good at any angle. But Vitya wasn’t looking at the camera. He was looking straight at Yuuri. And if it weren’t for the fact that this was a job, Yuuri would have melted right then and there.

Vitya tugged at the pants lightly, urging Yuuri to lift his hips. Both relieved for a moment but also increasingly anxious, Yuuri followed Vitya’s lead. The latter slid the pants just over the tops of his thighs, muscles taut. The constriction of the pants forced his legs to stay nearly shut. As if feeling considerate, Vitya curled his fingers delicately around Yuuri’s balls and pushed them up out of the way, pressing them to Yuuri’s erection. Which was a fine sensation, more deliberate and easy to get used to, so Yuuri relaxed into the feeling.

Then Vitya’s mouth latched onto them as they rolled in his fingers. His free hand came up and massaged the ridge on the underside from the base to the bottom of the head. It was so much, so incredibly complex, that Yuuri nearly forgot about the camera again. The only thing that kept him coherent for the moment was the fact that this was all just part of the tease. Vitya was a bad intern.

Yuuri grabbed a hold of that thought and grounded himself. It was just another challenge. He brought a hand down to his base, brushing Vitya’s cheek by accident, and held himself. Vitya’s hand let go, but he was still tonguing elsewhere. Without breaking the seal of Vitya’s lips, Yuuri hooked a finger underneath his chin and pushed it upward. Vitya stared up at him innocently, like he  _didn't_ have balls currently in his mouth, wondering if he was doing something wrong and asking for direction.

Yuuri was only too glad to give Vitya direction. He let his hand guide his cock downward and tapped it lightly across Vitya’s cheek, a slightly wet slapping sound. Vitya’s eyes widened for a moment and his tongue stilled. But when he didn’t move, Yuuri repeated the gesture a little harder, angry that his intern wasn’t making up for his mistake.

“I thought I told you to suck me,” Yuuri reminded him with a dark expression that faltered at the end as he came to the realization of what he’d just done. Thankfully there wasn’t a camera looking at him, because a blushing boss was not the image they were going for in this shoot.

Vitya was the only one to catch it, and his features readjusted to his role. “Sorry, sir,” he apologized and opened his mouth wide, tongue falling out in invitation, waiting for Yuuri to take charge again.

Yuuri inhaled deeply and held onto the air inside his lungs as he guided himself into Vitya’s mouth, his tongue gliding easily along his underside. As it disappeared inside, Vitya’s lips closed around him and his cheeks hollowed, the sucking motion becoming more intense as he sank almost all the way down on the first go.

It didn’t matter how much air Yuuri had stocked in his lungs, because it all sputtered out, leaving him entirely breathless as Vitya began bobbing without taking the time to adjust. Shocked, Yuuri forgot about the camera in his hand.

And it fell.

There was a dull crack, a grunt, and several clacking noises.

* * *

“Cut!” Mila’s voice rang out.

Yuuri stared wide-eyed, not at the camera, not at his painfully hard dick shining with spit, but at Viktor, who had fallen back from Yuuri after the camera had collided with his head only to be met by another blow to the back of his head from the desk behind him. He was holding the back of his head, but Yuuri could see the tiny, circular red dent from where the camera lens had smacked him.

“V-Vitya!” Yuuri leaned forward, but halted at the fact that he was in a state of undress far too inappropriate for the current predicament. He was about to tuck himself back in when Viktor stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

That’s when Yuuri and Mila heard his laughter. It was quiet, more indicated by the shaking in his shoulders than any actual sound, but quickly became louder when he couldn’t contain it anymore. Mila attempted to coddle him and give him water, but Viktor waved her off, his giggles still taking over any words he might have had.

Shock was replaced by confusion. In short, Yuuri would call it mortification. “V-Viktor? Are you, um, are you okay?”

Viktor wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m fine,” he laughed again, “I’ve just never had someone drop a camera on me before. Really, I take it as a compliment,” he managed before falling back into his own humor again.

Yuuri blanched. That was not the reaction he was expecting. His lips twitched upward, Viktor’s laughter finally catching up to him. He tried to suppress it but to no avail. He joined in, and there they sat, Viktor on the floor with a hand to the back of his head and Yuuri on the leather chair with his pants pulled down his thighs. The entire scene ruined.

Mila had left the room a few minutes ago, feeling like she was intruding on something.

When they had calmed down they were still alone. They collectively sighed, a few more breathy giggles escaping.

Yuuri was the first to recover completely. “I’m sorry I dropped the camera on you.”

Viktor shook his head. “It’s fine. It just surprised me, was all. Didn’t you have your hand in the strap?”

Yuuri didn’t want to admit that he’d forgotten, so he just shrugged, looking down. He’d become soft during their laughing fit. “I think it might be a minute before we can continue. Do you know where the fluffer is?”

Viktor propped himself back onto his knees and gripped the chair’s armrests, locking Yuuri in. “They usually don’t use fluffers for the blowjob scenes. I can help you out, though.”

Yuuri was about to say no, but if there was another way to get him as hard as he was before, he couldn’t think of one. And they had to finish the shoot today. It was the best solution, in all honesty. “O-Okay.”

Viktor stood on his knees, closing the distance between them. He gently nudged Yuuri’s legs apart, sidling himself between them. Before he brought his hand closer, he gave Yuuri a look so unguarded Yuuri wasn’t certain that he was the same person as before. Understanding that he was asking permission, Yuuri nodded, wondering why Viktor was even asking if he was the one that offered to fluff him.

Viktor smirked then, wasting no time in wrapping his fingers around Yuuri’s cock and pumping like it was no big deal. Yuuri stiffened, not in the way he was supposed to, for a moment before forcing himself to relax. There was something different about this, something more tender and affectionate about the way Viktor worked. It was something Yuuri couldn’t put a name to.

“Relax, Yuuri,” came Viktor’s voice, hushed and close to his ear, “let me take care of you.”

Yuuri’s breath he didn’t know he’d been holding came out shaky. All sensations he felt were straight from his cock. Viktor continued stroking him, bringing him back to full hardness. When Yuuri thought Viktor would stop, however, he didn’t. His head hung low against Yuuri’s shoulder, an eye kept trained on Yuuri’s face. His weight felt more comfortable than before, now that it was paired with pleasure. Yuuri turned his head to look at Viktor, calm and concentrated and heavenly. Their faces were nearly touching. He didn't want to look away.

Pants became low moans and hips began to tick, searching for more friction. Breaths shared similar spaces and heartbeats were racing each other, chasing a high that neither of them could afford to reach. A part of Viktor that Yuuri thought he hadn't seen before made its way across their fixed gaze, inching ever closer.

The door to the recording room opened and Mila walked in. Viktor was already sitting on the desk, swinging his legs nonchalantly and playing with his hair, fixing it back into place. The warmth that had been infused into the atmosphere dissipated and left Yuuri void of any stimulus.

“Are we ready to shoot again, boys?” Mila called out, her voice cutting through Yuuri’s clouded mind.

Before he could say anything, Viktor was reaching underneath the desk for the camcorder and handing it to Yuuri with a wink. “We’re good,” he said over his shoulder.

* * *

Yuuri couldn't remember what his character was supposed to be and almost immediately Vitya had him in his mouth again, just where they had left off. Yuuri’s body threatened to curl around the intense and uncalled for stimulation, but at least this time he held onto the camcorder tightly, _and_ put on the strap. Vitya had a hand wrapped around the base as he laved his tongue back and forth along the underside while he slid down. There were so many sensations to keep track of that Yuuri decided it was better to just lay back.

Holding the camcorder made it easier for him to remember that he was acting. He kept it trained on Vitya and was beginning to dissociate from the scene. It was easy to just imagine it was a scene playing from his laptop, to think that he was back in his bedroom. He moaned freely, more from watching like he was outside his own body than from what Vitya was actually doing to him, although that certainly helped.

“Yeah, you suck that cock,” Yuuri spoke when the movements started to become stale.

Vitya paused, popping off of Yuuri with a string of saliva still connecting them. His lips were wonderfully pink, shimmering lewdly. He put his hands on Yuuri’s hips and pulled him forward to the edge of his seat. At the same time, he takes him back in, bobbing deeper than before. Yuuri never once felt Vitya's teeth graze him at all and the ridges on the roof of his mouth smoothed over his length with each pump.

Yuuri raked his fingers through Vitya’s hair, fisting a bunch of it and tugging him closer, needing more. Vitya complied jerkily with a marbled groan, the vibration thrumming around his cock as it was pushed farther back. His hands fell away, leaving only his head at Yuuri’s mercy. He hollowed his cheeks and Yuuri felt his length come close to the back of his throat. Biting his lip, Yuuri pulled Vitya’s head closer, wanting to bring himself in as deep as possible before his nerves caught up to him.

Then Vitya choked, the back of his throat closing around Yuuri’s head in the most fantastic way possible.

Yuuri never had any previous partner deepthroat him before. He had always been too scared to ask for it and they generally had gag reflexes that were too strong to do much more than any regular blowjob. It looked like it hurt, but Yuuri wouldn’t know for sure. He had never had a problem with it, as far as he recalled.

Yuuri pulled himself back, pushing Vitya back up to the head to give him a break. Vitya seemed to protest, resisting Yuuri’s arm on his shoulder. Giving up after a few more failed attempts, Yuuri held the camcorder in two hands and concentrated on creating the picture others would see.

That thought had him wandering back into the depths of his mind. Others would be watching this. Others had probably watched his and Vitya’s other two videos, assuming they had been uploaded recently. He wondered what they said, what their reactions were. He wondered if he’d be able to find them himself. Would that be weird? He’d be watching it to watch Vitya, sure, but perhaps he could also evaluate his own performance. Make it better. He had never thought about watching himself before, but if it had Vitya with him, he would probably be okay with it.

For once, in a spot of confidence he rarely felt radiating from his core, he looked forward to finally filming sex.

Vitya’s head began to slow down, his choked moans whittling into whimpers. Yuuri blinked back to reality and saw that there were pinpricks of tears in the corners of his eyes, caught in his eyelashes. Concerned, Yuuri tried to reach out to wipe them away when Vitya’s hand caught his and had Yuuri grab his hair again. Vitya’s head stilled, opening his eyes and shooting a heated look to him. They were misted, pleading, submissive. They were asking something.

They were very deserving of the Eros title.

When Yuuri didn’t move, his own eyes held captive by Vitya’s, there was a throat clearing somewhere beyond the two of them. Shaking his head, Yuuri stood from the chair, jostling his dick that was still firmly inside Vitya’s mouth. Yuuri had to show Vitya that he could fight for that title, too.

“You ready for me to fuck your pretty little mouth, Vitya?” Yuuri purred as he zoomed the camera a little closer, focusing in on Vitya’s devious expression.

He nodded, but didn’t get a chance to finish the nod before Yuuri hardened his grip and thrust his hips forward. He met little resistance as he glided to the back of Vitya’s throat and did it again. Again. Again. Each time he pistoned inside Vitya there were choking noises, small and heady. There was no time for Yuuri to feel embarrassed about what he’d just said, though, because he could sense that he was getting close. And he didn’t want to stop.

Vitya made no complaint, just sat still, letting himself be used without shame. His eyebrows scrunched together and a lone tear dripped down his cheek facing away from the camera. Everything about him like this only flooded the pool of warmth in Yuuri’s gut.

Stumbling into a pre-orgasmic haze, Yuuri sighed, the tail end of it morphing into a low groan. He was losing his pace and his muscles were starting to cramp. His breath stuttered and a few more thrusts brought him right to the cusp of bliss.

A split second after he realized it, Yuuri pulled himself out of Vitya’s mouth after he’d started coming. It wasn’t a warning so much as it was a mistake he was trying to overcorrect. Vitya, taking stock of the situation quickly, masked his surprise with eager features wishing to be painted. He stuck his tongue out partway and Yuuri struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched Vitya’s face now covered in his come. And since he’d gotten hard just beforehand without release, this load was more than he thought it would be. Vitya’s cheeks, nose, even strands of his now wayward locks were covered in Yuuri’s markings.

If there were any lines to be had, no one remembered and the cameras clicked off.

* * *

As Yuuri wiped his brow and tucked himself back inside the suit pants before buttoning them, Viktor sat still in the floor, his face now an embarrassing reminder of what Yuuri had just done.

More embarrassing yet, Viktor still had his mouth open, his tongue holding a small amount of Yuuri’s orgasm that he hadn’t been able to stop before pulling out. Yuuri’s breath hitched when he figured it out.

“Spit it out, Viktor!” Yuuri hissed. “Quick, before Mila notices I broke the rule! Spit it out spit it out!”

Viktor simply kept his gaze on Yuuri, a quirk in his brow as he slid his tongue back into his mouth and made a show of swallowing, his adam’s apple bobbing under his chin. He smirked and licked his lips. “You’re certainly not the worst I’ve ever tasted,” his voice came out low and gravelly, rough from misuse. The sound almost made Yuuri hard again.

The poor boy let his face fall into his hands. “V-V-Viktor…”

“Excellent job you two,” Mila offered a towel to Viktor and a robe to Yuuri, “I think that’s one of the best money shots we’ve seen from anyone here before, Yuuri. Didn’t know you had it in you!”

Yuuri took the robe with a flush of reds staining his cheeks. He didn’t know he had that much in him, either. And he’d just spilled it all over Vitya the Living Legend. To be fair, others had done that to him before as well, so it wasn’t like he was special. It wasn’t like he was on par with the other various pornstars that had probably done far better to Vitya than he had. He shrugged in response, voice not willing to work just yet as he worked through his jumbled thoughts.

Mila talked with Viktor about some of the camera work and asked if he would like some ibuprofin or aspirin for his head, a request to which Viktor denied, saying he’d be fine. His voice still sounded like he had swallowed dirt, so she handed him a bottle of water. Appeased by the state of Viktor’s health otherwise, she packed up the cameras and left, leaving the two of them alone in the room again. But unlike last time, Yuuri wanted to run. He knew that he no longer had to feel that way, but something inside him refused to let him believe that.

Viktor had a small hairclip pinning his bangs away from his face and his skin was wiped clean, leaving no traces of what they had just done. Yuuri felt bad that Viktor hadn’t been allowed to finish until he thought he saw a distinctly darker color on the other man’s crotch. His attention was brought away from it when Viktor started to speak.

“You know, you always get really quiet after we shoot,” Viktor observed. “Something wrong?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, it— no,” he said, but his frustrations were rising again and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, “it’s just… I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m…” he tried to conjure the words he wanted to say out of thin air, “I’m not very… _Eros._ ”

That must not have been the response Viktor was expecting, because his confused glance became a light laugh that brightened the room. “I don’t think anyone can _be_ Eros. He’s fictional.”

“But you go in front of these cameras everyday and make every little action so— so _full_ of Eros and I can’t even get a word out without embarrassing myself. I just— I wish there was a way I could practice these things. To deserve working with you.”

Viktor just stood there. Great. Yuuri probably sounded weird, scaring him. He blinked a couple times, and with each succession Yuuri increasingly wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

“We could practice,” Viktor suggested casually, albeit cautiously. “Build your confidence.”

Yuuri took a step back instinctively, not quite sure what he’d just heard. “A-As in our lines?”

“And some other things,” Viktor’s voice trailed off, “if you’d like.”

And Yuuri considered it. For a moment, for longer, as they stood in the empty recording room. He remembered that brief second where he felt on top of the world, where he could be and do as he pleased for the camera. It had been nearly ethereal, a part of himself he didn’t know he could possess. It made the job worth it twice over. It made the job less of a time sink, made him feel like less of a slave to his responsibilities. If he could feel that free again, if Viktor could help him get there, perhaps he just might stay in Detroit for another year. Perhaps he’d found something he wanted to hold onto.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> Oh, and I finally made a [Tumblr](http://noon30ish.tumblr.com). Come talk to me about the fic, YoI in general, or anything else! And of course I will still take suggestions. ;)
> 
> I still don't know what I'm doing on there so bear with me. I'll be posting art and preview stuff there, too, if people want that. Hopefully I'll see you there! :)


	5. Colliding Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is more of a problem than Yuuri thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I'm back! After more than two weeks!!! Wooooooo! My thesis was apparently due a week earlier, so that sorta took over all of my time for a little while. But hey, now I'm in the editing stages! Only 4 weeks left!
> 
> No one to acknowledge for suggestions this chapter; this one's all me. ;) I hope you like it!

Yuuri decided that he never wanted to be on Yakov’s bad side. Ever.

The sounds that came from under the door were inhuman, sending poisoned spikes to each corner of the building, catching on anything they could rip apart. Yurio walked in from the front room with a wary frown, raising an eyebrow. Yuuri backed away from the office door and looked over. He shrugged.

Yurio checked over his shoulder to ensure that the front desk would be okay for a moment before he met Yuuri in the hall. The yelling had lulled, not for long, but at least now they could hear that there were in fact two voices coming from the office of despair. The second was taciturn, tight-lipped and petulant, opposing in tone but not in fervor.

“What’s Viktor done now?” Yurio leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets.

Yuuri knew better than to state the reason, since Viktor had not been subtle about it the other day, and no doubt had it caught fire throughout the studios. According to Mila, this was not the first time Viktor had done it, either. Yuuri prayed to whatever he could that Viktor wouldn’t be punished beyond this as the office’s decibels increased.

“I think he broke a rule,” was the safest reply Yuuri could manage.

Yurio’s face blanched. “Please tell me it was just the name one and not the other one.”

Yuuri glanced down at the floor, not willing to say, but also not wanting to show his confusion either. Surely, Yurio wouldn’t be familiar with the sex rules here; he had no reason to be. It was better not to let him know that there was a third one, let alone what it entailed (unless Yurio knew about the orgasm rule and not the kissing rule, but he wanted to imagine that Yurio was innocent enough).

But Yurio was a teenager and Yuuri didn’t kid himself into thinking that the blond had no idea what sex was at all, because that was absurd. Yuuri was pretty sure _he_ knew what sex was even before he hit puberty. That in no way meant he was going to tell Yurio anything about what went on behind those doors. Yurio himself said that he didn’t want to know, so Yuuri was left wondering why he was even asking something like that now.

Yurio didn’t wait long enough for an answer. “Well, it’s not like Yakov would fire him anyway,” he pushed off the wall and started to head back.

“H-He wouldn’t?”

“Like Yakov would ever fire family,” Yurio contended. “We’d be on the street if he did. But if Viktor doesn’t clean up his act, he won’t be the Living Legend for long.”

Yuuri was going to ask what the boy meant when the door to Yakov’s office opened. Yurio scurried back to his position in the lobby, pretending like he never left his post. Yuuri eyed him curiously but made no attempt to stop him.

When he faced Yakov’s office, Viktor was walking out with a heavy pout. Petty anger clouded his eyes, unable to see Yuuri until they were about to bump into each other. He stopped, then, and wiped the expression from his features. His lips pulled into a small smile.

“Yuuri,” Viktor visibly relaxed, “hi. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, but,” Yuuri was still hung up on something, “are you okay? Yakov sounded, uh…”

Viktor’s pout returned, much more transparent than before. His eyes shifted toward the office before landing back on Yuuri, the smile a little less convincing. “He’s a little mean today, but you don’t have to worry. It was my fault. He won’t do anything to you.”

“A little mean?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow, the sense of dread clawing its way up his throat.

Viktor waved it off with a chuckle. “You haven’t heard anything yet.”

“I hope I never do,” Yuuri muttered.

“Yuuri,” Yakov’s voice carried into the hall, demanding, “glad you’re here. I need to speak with you for a moment.”

Yuuri stiffened, sucking in his breath and steeling himself. Viktor put a hand on his shoulder fondly, expressing his reassurance with a squeeze. Their gazes met, and Yuuri wished it was one of those times people talk about when they can hear each other’s thoughts, understand each other perfectly, but this was nothing of the sort. Yuuri stared at his lips, wondering why the smile they were forming looked so different from the smiles he had always seen on screen, or when they were filming. Whether good or bad, he nodded and hoped he returned a nicer one. Not that anyone could have a nicer smile than Vitya.

Vitya?

Oh.

Yuuri’s step stumbled. That was _Viktor’s_ smile. Why had it looked so sad?

He held onto that thought as he sat in front of Yakov’s desk, awaiting his execution. That was what it felt like, anyhow. Yuuri twiddled his thumbs, not meeting Yakov’s eyes out of guilt. The air was stagnant, the remnants of Yakov’s argument with Viktor heating the room several degrees. But from over the top of his glasses’ frames, Yakov’s perpetual frown was no different than before.

“You won’t be filming with Vitya,” Yakov bit the bullet, “not—”

“I’m so very sorry, Yakov!” Yuuri bowed in panic. Viktor should not have to take the blame for this. Yuuri should have pulled out. He knew better. “It’ll never happen again! It was a mistake, I swear! I didn’t realize how close I was and I didn’t warn him and—”

“S-Slow down, boy,” Yakov had a hand up, palm out, “I understand how you must feel. But Vitya knows better, especially with a new person.”

“But, I…” Yuuri paused. Even if Yakov thought it wasn’t his fault, he still felt responsible. If anything, he should be receiving a punishment as well. Simply not filming with each other couldn’t be the only reprimand Yakov had in mind. The rules _did_ say that breaking them could be cause for termination. The idea didn’t bode well, churning his stomach into a nervous mixture.

“Yuuri,” Yakov leaned back, “unless you specifically planned to do that, I won’t write you up. I’m having Vitya clear his head. You two can resume filming three days from now. You can easily take the script for today and turn it into a solo, and I can get you the script for your and Vitya’s next shoot after today. Tomorrow’s project will involve a bit more planning, however. You said you pole danced, correct?”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered quickly. If he was getting off easy, however, he couldn’t help but hazard guesses as to what he ordered Viktor to do. Not film at all? That could be the case, but for some reason, Yuuri didn’t feel confident about it. Something about ordering the Living Legend to clear his head seemed out of place. Viktor had looked fairly upset when he walked out earlier. It would have been out of line for him to ask Yakov at the moment, so he remained quiet.

“Have you pole danced with a partner before?”

Yuuri blinked, surprised, before nodding. “Is there another actor here who pole dances?”

Yakov’s shoulders shifted, quick and almost unnoticed, a staccato, and the tinge of a smirk was on his lips. The movement was unexpected. “You’ll have to teach him the specific dance sequence, but he’s capable. Here,” he handed Yuuri a packet with the routine inside.

Before Yuuri could ask further, Yakov continued. “As for today, you can either use the toys that are kept here at the studio— which are all cleaned meticulously every day, I assure you— or you can go run home during lunch hour and grab whatever you have at home. They have to be sizeable, but it’s ultimately up to you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Yakov,” Yuuri ducked his head.

He checked the time and excused himself from the room, searching for the food carts that would be set out for the lunch hour. There usually wasn’t much food to really be had on these carts, but they were better than whatever Phichit and he had in their fridge. Almost anything was better than what they had in their fridge.

Despite the mild anxiety building inside, he did find that he was hungry. Breakfast had been the last thing on his mind that morning. And if he was going to do a solo shoot— his first solo shoot that would be uploaded since being hired and his first when he wouldn’t be drunk off his ass— he needed the calories.

He chose a couple pastries, towering three of them in his palm and then one more to go immediately into his mouth, and walked out into the November air. They were tart and flaky, and Yuuri gave pause briefly to wonder who had made them because they didn’t taste like they came from a plastic bag stuffed in a freezer for too long. The fruit filling actually tasted like how it should, raspberry juices sending sweet relief to his stomach. It wouldn’t be enough and he would have to scrounge around at home while he picked up his supplies, but it was a nice reprieve all the same.

After the third pastry, Yuuri slowed down his chewing and his gait. He went through a mental checklist of the toys that he had stored away under his bed. None of them were particularly out of the ordinary, and he wasn’t sure if any of them were camera-worthy, but he was more comfortable with them. He should have checked what the studio had in their stash, he realized the more he thought about it. On the other hand, it wasn’t like they were going to make him use a bunch all at once.

Probably.

He would bring two just in case.

There were his two dildos that he owned, for starters. One was flesh-colored silicone with a large base so that it could stand straight up without assistance. Not that Yuuri used it for his squats or quads when he need to work out and get off at the same time or anything like that. Sometimes it was nice to just simulate riding someone. The other dildo was a velvety matte black, simple but wide with a nice curved handle that made it easier to pump, angled just so to make him squirm when he used it right. Of the two, it was hard to pick. He wouldn’t bring two dildos; that just seemed excessive. Perhaps one of them and something smaller.

He had a standard plug, not too big, not too small. Nothing extraordinary, other than the fact that it was glass. It wasn’t used often, though, unless he felt like wearing it underneath his clothing for a little while. But that quickly got old when he knew he would finish by his own hand at the end of the day. Regardless, he didn’t want to use it at the same time as a dildo at his recording. Double penetration wasn’t necessarily something he had dabbled in before and he wasn’t about to start that with a camera staring at him.

Yuuri _did_ have that joke present that Phichit had bought him last year for his birthday—

Yuuri rounded the corner that would take him to their apartment building and found himself bumping into Viktor for the second time that day, this time their bodies colliding. Makkachin came bounding after when he realized who his owner had run into, stopping to bark happily, tongue lolling lazily out the corner of his upturned mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where I was—” Yuuri cut himself off. “Oh, V-Viktor.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor beamed, his excitement billowing puffs in the air. “What are you doing here?” Makkachin seconded the question by switching to Yuuri’s side, nudging his head into Yuuri’s palm and looking up for permission.

Yuuri acquiesced, ruffling between Makkachin’s ears, before he registered what Viktor was asking. Normally, something as simple as telling the truth wouldn’t have been an issue. When the truth involved picking out sex toys, coupled their current location— well, it would have been an understatement to say that Yuuri was hesitant.

“I’m, uh,” Yuuri twiddled his fingers and worried his bottom lip, a motion which caused Makkachin to inch closer with a low whine, “I’m on break until two. You?”

“I’m grabbing the traitor and myself some lunch,” Viktor gestured to his dog no longer at his side, “but I haven’t found a place yet.”

Yuuri looked around, pretending as if he didn’t already know the layout of the street like he had been living on it for five years. “There’s a burger place right there,” he offered, pointing vaguely toward a small diner he and Phichit ate at often.

Viktor glanced over briefly, but Yuuri could tell he had already checked out the place. “Correction: I haven’t found a place yet that I like _and_ allows dogs.”

“Ah,” Yuuri retracted his hand, “that would be a problem.”

Viktor waved his hand as if to say _that’s my point_ , which would have seemed condescending if it had been done by anyone else, but Viktor made it seem so natural. The curve of his lips changed from amused to curious as his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Do you know if that coffee shop over there allows dogs?”

Yuuri didn’t have to turn around to know which place Viktor was referring to, he knew the place inside and out, but he looked anyway out of courtesy. A couple with a smaller dog entered the building. He nodded, unsure what to say about the place. “And they make good sandwiches and, uh, coffee," Yuuri ended lamely.

“That would be the point of a coffee shop,” Viktor chuckled.

Yuuri nodded, the beginnings of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. “I guess so.”

"Would you like to join me?" Viktor asked without hesitation, impulsive with optimism shining in his eyes.

Alarm bells.

"V-Viktor!" Yuuri felt himself jump out of his skin. "You can't ask things like that! We're not—" _we're not supposed to go on dates_ , he wanted to say, but— "we barely know each other."

That was the best excuse he could come up with?

Viktor's brows furrowed, eyes searching Yuuri’s. Then he laughed. "Oh, you're right. We haven't even had sex yet. I'm doing this all out of order. I'm sorry to have led you on, Yuuri. Let me pay for your lunch in return for my lack of tact.”

Yuuri expected a wink, but he found sea glass shimmering, pleading, instead.

It took a moment, indecision losing against the puppy eyes being pegged at him by both Makkachin and Viktor, before Yuuri gave up and allowed Viktor to drag him into the coffee shop. Several customers looked their way, smiling at the ball of fluff that bounced happily around the pair.

Yuuri could feel his blush growing the longer that Viktor held his hand. And it seemed silly, really, that feeling the warmth of Viktor’s skin engulfing his was causing his heart to race. Maybe it was because Viktor’s smile, brighter now than it had been earlier that day, didn’t go away even as the barista asked for their order, as he handed over his card without paying attention to the balance, or as he found them a place to sit by the window while they waited. Or it might have been the way Viktor was feeding Makkachin extra muffin crumbs under the high table as if he had done it hundreds of times before.

Or it was because Viktor was _still_ holding his hand through all of that. Yuuri attempted to retract his hand and was met with the slightest resistance, barely noticeable, before Viktor let go. His voice was still finishing a sentence, flowing from one word to the next without acknowledging the interaction. Yuuri slipped both of his hands under the table and rubbed the skin where Viktor’s touch still lingered.

It was strange how the senses were blending, molding the experience that was Viktor Nikiforov. The sensual touches on set bled into reality as his carefree actions seemed as much a part of the scenes as they were his everyday mannerisms. Yuuri worried he was jumping to conclusions he had no permission to make in thinking these things. They had worked together on a total of three shoots, none of which had involved sex. So, in a way, he did feel that they should have known each other through work longer before grabbing lunch together.

Which, for the record, was _not_ a date. Yuuri would pay him back as soon as he got his first paycheck that coming weekend.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t work, either. Nothing they talked about even broached the subject. Some topics were quite far off, in fact. Anything from ballet to poodle care, no word left unspoken. It took awhile for Yuuri, but as soon as he was used to it, it felt like they had always done this. Like they met here every day, conversing without a care and enjoying the aromas of coffee beans and the feel of coarse fur underneath their fingertips.

“You know,” Viktor’s cheek lay in his palm, one hand stirring his cooling coffee absently, “your English is fantastic. You don’t really have an accent, either.” His own accent wrapped the words in pleasant inquisitiveness.

“Uh, thanks,” Yuuri tapped a finger against his mug, a small upward tug on his lips. Viktor had been spilling subtle compliments left and right, although Yuuri really only believed half of them. There was no way he was ‘talented’ or ‘graceful,’ at least not anywhere near as much as Viktor seemed to think. He was actually proud of his English, though, so he offered no rebuttal.

“You said you were from Japan, right?” Viktor prompted.

“Ah, it’s been about five years,” Yuuri explained. “So I probably sound pretty American, don’t I?”

“You haven’t seen your poodle in five years?” Viktor gaped. “Yuuri! You should have told me! I would have let you borrow Makkachin.”

The threat of a smile finally burst with a small laugh. The fact that _that_ was Viktor’s first reaction was endearing, to say the least. “Th-that’s— I wouldn’t ask to take your dog from you, Viktor.”

“Why not?” Viktor seemed genuinely puzzled. “He likes you more than me.”

“I’m not the one feeding him sugar from the table,” Yuuri pointed out as Makkachin leapt, his forepaws resting on Viktor’s lap in expectation.

“It’s a muffin!” Viktor held it up as if Yuuri wasn’t able to see it for what it was, which, given the state of his eyesight warranting prescription glasses, was not unfounded. It didn’t change Yuuri’s opinion. Makkachin’s head immediately followed the muffin, eyes zeroing in on the target. “It’s not _all_ sugar.”

“You ordered special biscuits for him already,” Yuuri bickered.

Viktor pouted, putting the muffin back on his plate. “At least it wasn’t a cupcake,” he muttered petulantly.

Yuuri sighed and wiped a hand over his face. “You’re inconceivable.”

Viktor was about to retort when his words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, a quizzical expression took over. “Was that a _Princess Bride_ reference?”

“A what?”

" _T_ _he Princess Bride_ ,” Viktor repeated. Seeing Yuuri’s confusion, he leaned in, accidentally knocking over his half-finished muffin and subsequently losing it to Makkachin’s predatory instincts down below. “Are you telling me you haven’t seen _The Princess Bride_?”

“It sounds like an old, cheesy romance movie,” Yuuri shrugged, not particularly fazed.

Viktor scoffed. “It’s only the best adventure, action, comedy, fantasy, _romance_ in all of film,” he chided, biting his lip in a poor attempt to hide a smirk. Whether he said that in truth or he was simply poking and prodding Yuuri for jest, it was impossible to say. It was obvious that he was exaggerating, but not by much.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “How can it be all of those things and still have a plot?”

Viktor put a hand over his chest in exaggeration. “You wound me, Yuuri. I wouldn’t have agreed to get you coffee if you had told me this important piece of information earlier. It’s a real deal-breaker.”

Yuuri laughed. He laughed because Viktor was being utterly ridiculous, over-the-top, and completely unlike a pornstar. Sure, pornstars had lives outside of their filming, but no one ever really thought about that. Why think about that when you’ve got an erection that needed attending and was the only reason for looking up porn in the first place?

But he was also laughing because Viktor was being semi-serious as well. He went on about the brilliance that was a film that Yuuri was almost entirely certain Viktor had made up just to hear himself talk. Or to keep Yuuri around long enough to be late for work. Either explanation worked, because Yuuri found that he could rest on his arms, elbows heavy on the table, and listen to Viktor talk about pretty much anything.

Yuuri attempted to argue some points, and although Viktor listened to them, he insisted that Yuuri could not properly comment on anything about the film if he had not seen it yet.

“Well,” Yuuri checked his phone for the time, searching for a way to close off their engaged conversation— not because he wanted to, but because he did actually have to keep this job and show up on time, “maybe we’ll watch it after—” he faltered, uncertain— “after we practice? Um, maybe after work?”

Viktor’s face paled, his gentle aura slipping away as he deadpanned. There was the faintest trace of pink on the tip of his nose. His voice came out even, leveled. “Did you get our new script?”

Yuuri realized that he may have included another implication in his request, but surely Viktor understood what he meant. “N-No. Yakov said he would give it to me after my shoot today.”

Viktor shifted in his seat, his jaw set. “Solo?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, although it sounded more like a question than an answer. Unsure what to do about the way Viktor’s gaze changed, he tried to divert. “Do you already have the new script?”

The cheerful Viktor returned— arguably he hadn’t really left— and he nodded. “It’s absolutely awful. Probably the worst lines ever, but they’re easy to memorize. Are you sure you want to practice tonight though? Right after you shoot? I’ll admit, I’ve thought your stamina was admirable, but I don’t think—”

“N-Not that sort of practice!” Yuuri held out his arms and waved them, trying to dispel the confusion before it could begin. “I was thinking— it’s just— maybe we should just work on the lines tonight. I… I have a hard time with lines,” _when I realize I’m about to do those kinds of things with you_ , Yuuri didn’t add.

Viktor blinked. “Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with, Yuuri.”

At that moment, Makkachin barked from his place on the floor, several muffin crumbs hanging from his curly fur. Viktor turned to him, carefully picking out the pieces and dropping them into his napkin on the table. That was when Yuuri noticed that it was the first time since running into him that Viktor had taken his eyes off of Yuuri. The shift in attention reminded him that he did at some point actually have to head home and grab things before his shoot. He stood then, picking up his wrappers and coffee mug and scooting his chair back in with his hip. The motion caused Viktor to look back at him immediately.

“I’ve gotta run home before the shoot,” Yuuri supplied, hoping that Viktor wouldn’t ask further.

But it seemed that was all the invitation that Viktor needed. “If you don’t have any good toys, I donated some to the studios a couple weeks ago. One of them is this vibrating, thrusting dildo that I think you’d—”

People were beginning to turn their way, the shop small enough to hear much of the conversation, and Yuuri squeaked, moving to clamp a hand over Viktor’s mouth. “V-V- _Viktor!_ ” He hissed.

Viktor deftly escaped Yuuri’s attempt to shut him up, but also didn’t continue his sentence as some form of preemptive apology. “Do you want me to pick you up after your shoot?”

Yuuri, still self-conscious about all the eyes that may or may not have been on them, threw his trash away and walked out of the shop, not turning to see if Viktor had followed him. Makkachin had, so he just assumed that Viktor would be outside shortly. A few seconds later, the chime of the bell above the door and a heavy-set pout framed by silver locks told him that he was correct.

Now that nothing but the brisk wind whipping around street corners could hear them, Yuuri spoke. “I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea…”

“The wrong idea?” Viktor asked. “A couple people in there recognized me. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, Yuuri. They never point me out or anything. You get used to it after awhile.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose, but rescinded the hand back into his pocket as the cold nipped at the bare skin. “Anyway. I think I remember the way to your apartment from last time. I can just head over after, okay?”

Viktor frowned, honestly frowned, and it looked so wrong to see it slapped onto his features. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Yuuri wasn’t about to admit it, but it was possible that he would forget a turn or two. He usually had an impeccable sense of direction, but walking around with Viktor that day, talking about Vicchan, had more than likely twisted the directions in his mind. He didn’t want to say that, of course, unless he was meaning to give Viktor another reason to coddle him.

When Yuuri didn’t answer, Viktor unlocked his phone and held it out to him, ‘New Contact’ at the top of the screen. “Let’s exchange numbers, then. If you get lost, let me know and I’ll come get you.”

It was a fair request, so Yuuri obliged, bringing his phone out and handing it to Viktor as he typed his own number in.

Viktor just stared at Yuuri’s phone screen. “Uh, Yuuri? Is there an English keyboard? I don’t know how to spell my name in Japanese.”

Yuuri created his contact in Viktor’s phone as the words settled in. “Oh! Sorry. I’ll do that part. Did you put your number in?”

“Yeah,” Viktor switched phones with him. He glanced over the new contact, then tapped something on it and began typing. Yuuri was positive he was just sending a message, but it was taking longer than he thought it would. “There, I sent you a text as well to make sure it worked. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Yuuri’s phone buzzed but he didn’t check it. “I’ll let you know when I leave,” Yuuri assured him.

Viktor’s smile practically warmed the air around them, heated the winds that pushed them closer to each other. After a long moment, he broke the scene and whistled to Makkachin, who was still sitting at Yuuri’s side, and began walking down the road. “Bye, Yuuri!”

Yuuri waved and headed in the opposite direction, heart thudding in his chest. Once Viktor was out of sight, he pulled out his phone again.

The text read: _As you wish._

Yuuri frowned. For the amount of time Viktor had been typing, this text could not have taken that long. Not to mention it didn’t make sense. He tapped out _I didn’t wish for anything?_ and proceeded to jog to avoid being late.

* * *

Yuuri wasn’t sure which was worse.

That he was going to do a scene alone and without alcohol (he had subsequently been denied that privilege in the aftermath of his test recording, although Yuuri wasn’t given the chance to question as to why), or that he was going to use this ridiculous dildo that Viktor had suggested.

Mila, a true godsend in this studio, ensured Yuuri that she would be as out of the way as possible. She had done amazingly so far; Yuuri hardly ever noticed her when they were filming. That may have been because Vitya happened to be all he could sense at the time. It was a possibility. She had mentioned that during solos the cameras were usually more focused, closer than when filming two people, but Yuuri figured he would be fine. Besides, he had done this solo thing before. Alcohol or no, the only difference would be that he was in front of a camera.

Well, that and the fact that this video would be uploaded to the internet.

Needless to say, he was a little nervous.

Mila gave Yuuri a thumbs-up and hid behind the camera, carefully placed outside the concentration of light on the workout equipment he was currently sitting on. The bench and pectoral press machine was a mass of metal and leather, the intricate components lost on Yuuri after so long. He hadn’t worked out in a gym since he left college, his free university gym membership cancelled once he graduated. But he wasn’t here to work out, not in the way these things were meant to be used.

He had his own plug in his hand and a weight in the other, while the offending item that Viktor suggested stood underneath the bench, out of sight until he was mentally ready to really put it to use. There was some lube just off to the side for when he would need it since he hadn’t prepped before the shoot. He had figured prepping was part of the experience, right?

There wasn’t necessarily a script anymore; there was no one for him to talk to. He counted his reps out loud— and felt incredibly weird about it— making sure to show off his arms against the black muscle tank he was wearing. Georgi had done his best to slick Yuuri’s hair back to give it the greasy, post-workout look, adding to this air of a gym buff that Yuuri did not feel he embodied. Occasionally looking into the camera, he tried to keep a cheeky grin on his face, one that said his workout would be of the self-satisfaction variety. He was fairly certain it wasn’t coming across in its entirety, though. Vitya could do it a thousand times better than he could.

The thought of Vitya doing this scene instead of him helped his visualization of it all. The way Vitya would present himself like he was the only person worth watching, how he would fan and touch himself in time to some cliche music and still make it look tasteful. Even his microexpressions that said _this is for you_ were perfectly formed in Yuuri’s mind. As he switched to a wrist curl on one hand, he set the toy down in between his legs and palmed himself, using the same curling motion. He was still soft but wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Yuuri continued the guise of working out until he felt hard enough. He dropped the weight off to the side and shimmied out of the skin-tight spandex until they reached his mid-thighs. His dick lay half-hard against his abdomen. He pulled it upward and stroked for a few seconds before picking up the forgotten toy still on the bench between his legs. He purposely admired it in front of the camera, turning it over and watching the way the glass caught in the light. There were a few tiny air bubbles inside the glass, giving the appearance of a more crystalline quality.

The idea that he was going to put this inside of him for the camera unnerved him, kept his erection from growing completely. It was frustrating, really, because a shoot that was only supposed to take fifteen minutes might take several hours at this point. Yuuri closed his eyes and brought the toy to his lips, as if trying to force the dirty thoughts into his mind by reminding him what would fill him. His imagination floated about, never quite taking shape, but alluding to the idea that, had Vitya been in here to film today, he would have played with Yuuri better than anyone before.

Vitya would take care of him with this toy.

Viktor would tease him about it, smiling in that light, gentle way. A way that exuded care and affection and something he really didn’t want to think about right now because—

He was soft again.

Mila popped up with a question written all over her face, but Yuuri shook his head. He would just have to skip this step. The toy would do its job eventually.

Yuuri had nowhere to put the toy if he was going to show off his ass, though. Thinking quickly, he took the plug into his mouth, tongue swirling around the glass meticulously. He popped it into his mouth and held it there as he took off the spandex, leaned back, and hiked his legs up to give the camera a better view. As if on cue, the camera was brought closer, focusing in for a shot that was the very definition of explicit. Yuuri tried not to think about it too much because the fact that anyone would put all of their attention on his private areas was reminding him of his work at the strip club. As long as the eyes weren’t really there, he reasoned, he could do this.

Yuuri kneaded his ass, spreading it open. He swiped a dry finger over the hole, fluttering lightly so that the sensation was barely there. The slightest amount of anticipation surfaced again, trickling into his gut, stopped by a dam of thoughts that invaded him.

What would Vitya do for this scene?

Yuuri took a deep breath and grabbed the lube from under his seat. He uncapped it and slathered his fingers hastily. Going to work, he teased himself by pressing the pad of his finger to the rim, popping it out by the tiny amount of suction created in the motion. He made a show of that, too, until he figured it had gotten boring. Then in went his finger, yet his thoughts were still coherent.

The slide had always been easier when he did it himself. He trusted his fingers, trusted himself to know what his body wanted. Partners had prepped him before, sure, and it was never painful per se, but he didn’t like releasing control. Letting other people care for him felt like he was being babied, and somewhere inside his own head he knew that they weren’t meaning to do it, but it didn’t matter. Doing it himself was safe territory.

It was in that sort of trance that Yuuri started to enjoy it. He pulled one leg back, hugged it to his chest with his calf by his head— ever thankful for his flexibility— and wormed his arm between that leg and his chest, hand gripping the underside of his thigh. It offered more leverage as he added the second finger, feeling the ridges of his knuckles slip past the ring of muscle. He took a shaky breath and continued without waiting to adjust. He knew he could take it. It wouldn’t hurt just yet.

Yuuri’s mind began to wander again. He was mostly hard again, which was good, but he needed more. If these fingers were Viktor’s—

_Vitya’s_. If these fingers were _Vitya’s_ , they would be spreading themselves apart, stretching his walls and prepping him for something much bigger.

That got him hard again.

Yuuri popped the toy out of his mouth, realizing that he had been drooling around it the entire time, saliva stringing from the glass to his lips. He was still a little tight for it, but that would make it better. That was something viewers would—

_NO._  Do _not_ think about other people watching.

Think about Vitya watching this after it’s uploaded.

Think about Vitya fucking into his fist to this video.

The jolt of electricity that traveled down his spine caused his hole to clench. With a shaky breath, he rubbed the toy around his rim while he tried to squeeze out more lube. It took a moment, his hands jittery at the image his mind had supplied him, but he was able to cover the toy adequately and tease himself again. That alone had precome gathering at his tip. Relieved that this was going how he wanted it to, he pushed the toy inside, savoring the way it widened the further it went in.

At the widest part, Yuuri stopped. Popping it all the way in was what was expected. Instead, he pulled it out and went back in again, stopping at the widest and holding it there. He twisted it and repeated the same gesture. He continued this for a little while until he couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to touch himself. The toy slid all the way in eagerly with just the press of a fingertip. He clenched around it, experimenting with the feeling of it inside him. Wiggling his hips, it nudged all the right places without even getting close to the spot he wanted. And that was fine.

Yuuri let his other leg join in, both of them hugged to his chest, taking a moment to breathe. The plug adjusted itself, sending delicious waves of pleasure across his nerves. He heard the camera shift focus and move around, and he got the sense that something metal was about to touch his leg. Although nothing warranted the reaction, anxiety began to whisper in his ear. He had to be doing something wrong if the camera had to adjust. Attempting to shake it off, he put his cock in his hands and bit his lip, glad to ease the tension a little.

He thought about Vitya, what he would tell Yuuri to do, what he would say, like he had done for their other videos. But those thoughts only prompted the next ones associated with that head of silver hair. Thoughts of Viktor’s cheerful expression and Viktor’s coach-like scolding and Viktor’s fascination for cheesy movies…

Yuuri snapped out of it when he heard the camera shut off.

“Yuuri? Are you sure you want to keep filming today?” Mila asked cautiously. “You don’t seem a hundred percent into it. That’s the second time you’ve gone soft. Do you need a fluffer?”

Yuuri’s legs fell back down, feet resting flat on the floor. He winced as he tried to sit up normally when he remembered the plug. Settling to rest on his elbows, he looked down. He had, in fact, gone soft again. He muttered a curse under his breath.

“Yuuri?” Mila tried again.

Yuuri glanced upward, suddenly self conscious, and covered himself. “I… no, I can do this,” he shook his head, determined, “I just need a minute.”

As soon as Mila left the room with some half-veiled excuse, confusion flooded Yuuri’s system. What was wrong with him? He never had a problem masturbating to Vitya before, not once in his life. Granted, he hadn’t done it on his own time since he started working here, but that shouldn’t mean something was wrong. If anything, it meant that this should feel so much better. And it felt fine, but that was about it. Just ‘fine.’

Frustrated with whatever his emotions were trying to tell him, he swallowed his pride and picked up the toy Viktor had suggested.

True to his word, this purple dildo was tall and see through, electronic hardware visible past the silicone. There was a switch at the base. He clicked it on to test the batteries, watching as the ribbing near the dildo’s head elongated and constricted, up and down at the lowest setting. He tested all the settings, and found himself excited once again. Licking his lips, he told himself he could persevere. He had to. As long as he didn’t try to think about it too much, he wouldn’t be distracted.

Mila walked in and Yuuri turned the dildo off, muscles almost instinctively moving to hide it. Then he realized that Mila had probably seen much worse, and he _was_ lying naked on a bench with a glass plug inside him.

She blinked, then smiled. “I see you found Viktor’s old favorite. I knew you liked it.”

Yuuri thought about what she said for a moment, concerned as to what prompted her to think that. Then he realized that she probably meant he liked the toy being used by Vitya. It wasn’t a stretch for her to assume that Yuuri watched Vitya’s videos before. Who _hadn’t?_

Not wanting to dwell on it, he had Mila start filming again. This time, he pulled out every trick he could think of, whether by his own brain’s concoction or memories of lonely nights. Playing with the plug more, he teased himself by adding a finger in with the plug. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, but it didn’t feel the greatest, so he tried another idea.

Yuuri ventured to quicken his pace, pulling and pushing the plug faster in time with his other hand on his cock. At least this time he was able to stay hard out of sheer willpower. But a plug wasn’t really meant to be used this way, and while it was stimulating, it was hurting his wrist. He slowed and eased the toy out, rubbing it in circles around his rim for show as he picked up the thrusting dildo once again.

Yuuri set the plug down and opened himself up in full view of the camera again, imagining how the lube made his fucked-open hole glisten under the studio lights. He sat up carefully after a moment, showing off the new toy for the camera as he poured the liquid over it messily. He thought about speaking, but knew if he did that he would be pulled from his concentration, so he continued to angle the toy this way and that silently.

Before leaning back down again, Yuuri went through each setting, running his hand over the shaft where the ribbing changed. The sight of the head moving on its own to peek out around his fist sent a delightful twitch to his cock. He absentmindedly rubbed himself, watching the dildo and remembering an old video in which it was used.

Taking a deep breath to keep his resolve, Yuuri resumed his former position and turned the dildo off for the time being. Due to his foreplay with the plug, he felt himself open up easily, accepting the blunt intrusion with a tremor in his muscles from having to balance himself on the workout bench. For the first time in the session, his jaw dropped and a guttural moan escaped from his throat. A few tries, a few different angles, and he finally sank the toy all the way in. He shuddered visibly, biting his lip and running a hand through his gelled hair.

Slipping into that precious headspace, he centered on the feeling between his legs. He bet it looked sinfully arousing, the way the purple contrasted in between his cheeks. “I’m going to turn it on now, nice and slow,” he warned before clicking it on.

Yuuri felt the ridges slide, felt the bulbous head push further in, felt the vibrations straight to the front of his abdomen where his dick lay hard and leaking. The sigh that passed his lips was that of bliss. He went with it for a little while and then moved on.

By the time he got to the highest setting, Yuuri was having a hard time keeping his legs up in the air. He had finally wedged the toy so that it was hitting his prostate consistently and _good god_ Vitya knew the best toys. His choked-back whimpers clawed at his vocal chords and he knew it wouldn’t take him long.

Yuuri grabbed the base of the dildo and pushed it in as far as he could, the edges of his vision erupting from the constant assault of pleasure. His back arched off the bench and he could feel himself getting closer and that beautiful, _beautiful_ euphoria was his for the taking. His mind zeroed in on the mental image automatically provided by his stimulated brain of Vitya hot and hard and inside him and—

And his smile was tender, caring, and most definitely _not_ a Vitya sexed-out smile. It was Viktor, laughing and feeding his poodle a muffin while he talked about his love of ballet.

All need for release dissipated into the air and Yuuri cried out in desperation, tears staining his cheeks and blurring his vision.

Mila had Yuuri take another break, clicking off the toy for him before he hurt himself. It took longer this time for him to be ready again after berating himself for his inability to do this simple thing. To do the thing that Vitya never had a problem doing for the camera. In his mind, he still didn’t deserve to work with Vitya. His competitive side wanted to prove he could do it. Wanted it so badly.

But he couldn’t figure out why.

In the end, it took over an hour and a half to film what should have taken twenty minutes at most. The end result was just that; an end. It was satisfying, like all orgasms were, but it wasn’t mind-blowing either. It was just a reaction, involuntary and uninteresting. His body was sated but his mind was in turmoil.

“Don’t worry about your toys,” Mila picked them up without disgust as they were fixing the room afterward, sensing the residues of Yuuri’s distress, “I’ll clean them and store them on the shelf so you can get them later, okay?”

“Thank you, Mila,” Yuuri bowed his head and walked out, too embarrassed to say anything more.

* * *

Yuuri was lost.

He didn’t want to say that he was lost, but he was undoubtedly lost.

All of the streets looked the same in the late afternoon and though he tried to remember the route that he and Viktor had taken the other day, his memory had not been perfect. Everytime he saw something familiar he would walk a little faster, only to turn the corner and realize he had either been there twice before in the past five minutes or he was in a new place entirely. At one point he even ended up back on his own street.

Not that he really noticed. His thoughts were taking vastly different paths.

Yuuri contemplated calling it quits and returning home for the night. It would have been easy. He would have been perfectly content to walk into his apartment, help Phichit cook some cheap dinner, and sink into his comfortable, familiar bed. He had the new script in his hand to mentally prepare himself for the pair pole dance he would have to do with someone new tomorrow. Someone that wasn’t Vitya. He didn’t know who it would be; he was just glad that it wasn’t a script that led to sex. He was supposed to be working with Vitya this month. Breaking a rule had shifted that slightly, but at least Yakov was mindful enough to give Yuuri other pieces to do so that he could keep the same hours. Still, not working with Viktor—

Vitya. Not working with _Vitya_ was going to be weird. Today attested to that statement.

The industry obviously wouldn’t keep him monogamously attached with the world’s most sought-after pornstar, but he wanted all the time he could get. It was strange, that feeling of ambition that he hadn’t felt in so long which came in fits and boughts he couldn’t control. It was still vague and weighed uncertain in his heart and he didn’t have a good way to describe it..

Whatever he felt, however, did not disguise the fact that he did not want to break down in the middle of Detroit, scared that he really had lost his way. He didn’t want to worry Viktor by texting him just yet. Didn’t want to face him.

Yuuri would try a few more turns and _then_ if he still couldn’t find his way he would take out his cell phone. It was still light out and he would try to make progress on his own while he still could.

It was after the third time of winding up on his own street again that he gave up.

Yuuri was about to walk up the steps to his apartment when his phone started vibrating. He was going to ignore it, thinking it was a text, but then the vibration continued. Curious, he dug his phone out of his pocket and saw _Viktor_ in Japanese flash on his screen. He debated not answering, but then figured that it would only make Viktor worry more and answered it.

“Hello?”

" _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor’s tinny voice greeted. “ _Are you out of your shoot yet? It’s been over two hours. Are you okay?_ ”

“Hi Viktor,” Yuuri greeted back, “I, uh, just got out a little bit ago. I stopped at home first to drop off some things,” he lied.

“ _Oh,_ ” Viktor seemed to buy it, “ _do you think you know how to get to my place from there?_ ”

Yuuri was going to cancel, he really was. After wandering around, his feet were beginning to ache and his backside was a little sore. He had no reason _not_ to just walk up those few steps and hide himself in his room for the rest of the day, over-analyzing every single thing that that he did at work. He would have to head in early tomorrow, and if he stayed at Viktor’s any later than 9pm it would negatively impact his performance. He checked his phone; it was 4pm currently. He doubted it would take Viktor and him 5 hours to perfect some corny lines, but still.

There was something in the back of his mind that told him he should go.

Yuuri caved. “I don’t think I do. C-Could you come get me?”

Yuuri heard the rustling of what must have been a jacket and the faint jingle of keys. “ _Of course,_ ” he said with a hum of amusement. “ _I’ll be over in a little bit, okay?_ ”

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed. “See you soon.”

“ _As you wish,_ ” Viktor’s voice lowered before hanging up.

It was a split second afterwards that Yuuri realized he never told Viktor where he lived. He quickly typed out the address and hit send, hoping that Viktor would see it before he, too, got lost.

Then, bouncing and shifting his weight from foot to foot, he proceeded to wait. He wondered, not for the first nor the last time, what exactly it was that he wished for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an aside, I want to thank all of you that have been offering wonderful suggestions! I have a doc with about 3 pages of notes on solely those suggestions, thanks to you. And as much as I want you all to keep giving them, I'm worried that I won't be able to write all of them in this fic. Don't feel that your suggestion isn't worth mentioning, though! Especially if it's a repeat! I want there to be more repeats, if anything, so that I can keep a tally. 
> 
> Ideally (cackling), the next chapter should be up on the 21st. We'll see about that.
> 
> Either way, feel free to talk to me either here or on [tumblr](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/)! I love hearing from you! <3


	6. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A professional teaches his protege.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I have a few things to clear up so I'll try to be quick about it.
> 
> I'm late on the update again, and I'm sorry. Apparently the landlady was scheduling showings of my apartment and didn't bother to tell me until a few days before and I had to do some massive cleaning (no one in this house picks up after themselves smh). But it's done and the place looks pretty, so there's that.
> 
> Second, I decided to split this chapter into two because the tonal shift is a bit too jarring to keep it as one. So it's about half the length of my normal chapter (still >4k though). I may keep the rest of my chapters after this around 4k if you all don't mind. Let me know how you feel about that.
> 
> Love you all so much, seriously. <3 Now go read the chapter!

Of all the places in which Yuuri could picture himself, Viktor’s exceedingly large bathtub with built in seats was probably the least likely to cross his mind.

And yet, here he was, inside a pornstar’s bathtub.

He held his knees close to his chest, his toes curling and uncurling against the ceramic. The bathtub looked like it should be on its own patio connected to a mansion in the countryside, not inside an apartment in the middle of Detroit. Because although the apartment _was_ nice, it was a one bedroom abode and as such did not warrant a bathtub of this size.

Unless Viktor filmed here, too. He did mention camming before, but that would have been on his own. Single. In a bathtub clearly built for more than one. Perhaps Viktor brought other people here, although maybe not necessarily for filming. Surely someone as sought after as him had plenty of partners stay over. The idea of Viktor and some stranger with a blurry face having sex, in the very spot Yuuri sat in, had him shifting uncomfortably.

It wasn’t that he thought Viktor shouldn’t have had anyone over; he had no right to say such things. Besides, he would be a hypocrite if he did— Viktor was a pornstar he had watched almost religiously since he was a teenager. Although religion may not be the right term to attribute to the way Vitya performed for the camera.

And of course, _of course_ , it had to be on those thoughts that Viktor chimed in from other side of the door. “Are you ready to start, Yuuri?”

Startled, Yuuri scrambled around in his seat to find the lines. He leafed through the packet again until he was on the page with starting dialogue. Just a moment earlier, he had been caught up in reading the stage directions with a bunch of position names that held little meaning to him. Some of them sounded completely ridiculous and unnecessary. What was a _bent spoon_? An _afternoon delight_? He understood the basics like _cowboy_ and _missionary_ , although the latter was not written anywhere in this packet. Regardless, he had been distracted by the fact that whatever these positions meant, he and Viktor were going to do them. Together. Naked.

It was a good thing they were only going over lines this evening.

It was also a good thing that they wouldn’t be doing it for another two days.

Both were definitely good, because he couldn’t take these lines seriously at all.

“Ready!” He wasn’t.

Viktor opened the door and walked in, holding a large, angled foam piece that Yuuri hadn’t seen him with when they were just speaking the lines a few minutes ago before deciding to do a run on a ‘set.’ It was hooked under his arm nonchalantly, his shirt missing and his pants replaced by a pair of _very_ revealing swimming shorts. He looked for all the world like a lifeguard, sorely misplaced and simultaneously the centerpiece of the room. Viktor was the centerpiece of any room he was in, though, so Yuuri supposed he could pull off anything. This, however…

“I see you don’t have a lifeguard here at your beach,” Viktor leaned his hips against the side of the tub, lifting a leg to slide it across the top, inching closer to Yuuri and setting the foam down on the ground. Yuuri’s eyes followed each movement, the sight unhindered by clothing, lines flowing and blending into the seamless beauty that Viktor exuded with confidence, despite the tacky line.

Yuuri already forgot what he was supposed to say, so he found himself looking at the foam again. “W-What’s that?”

Viktor’s eyes flashed, wavering on some decision. “It’s a lifeguard’s flotation device. It’s to prevent you from drowning.”

Yuuri frowned, because although Viktor was trying to steer the lines back on track, Yuuri was off the rails entirely. “No, Viktor. What _is_ that?”

Viktor’s posture relaxed, his pose still breathtaking to look at but no longer angled for show. His brows scrunched and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sex ramp. It’s a sex ramp, Yuuri. But you have to _pretend_ it’s a flotation device.”

“Why do you have a sex ramp?” Yuuri asked, heart rate increasing. “W-We’re only rehearsing our lines.”

Viktor’s hand combed through his hair to scratch at the back of his head. “We’ll be using it when we actually do this. It also makes positioning a little easier, especially since shoots get rough quickly. I didn’t want you getting hurt during your first time. For now, it’s just a prop.”

That was… surprisingly thoughtful. Unfounded, but thoughtful. “I’ll be fine,” Yuuri blushed. “It’s not like I’m a virgin.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his laughter light off his curved lips. “I never thought you were.”

Yuuri bowed his head. He had nothing to say to that, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to respond. Viktor thought he was experienced. Yuuri imagined that wasn’t a giant leap to make considering he chose to do this line of work. But there was something in the way that Viktor said it that held some sort of deeper meaning and he couldn’t figure it out.

Regardless, Yuuri didn’t know his next lines. He glanced over at the packet that lay on the other side of the tub. Squinting in an attempt to find his spot inconspicuously.

“ _Yuuuuri_ ,” Viktor’s voice lowered accusingly, “did you really forget your very first line?”

Yuuri, having been found out, picked up the packet and read through the first page again. He huffed. Lines seemed less and less important by the second. His student mind yearned to procrastinate for as long as he could.

“‘I’m not at the beach, this is a bath tub,’” Yuuri quoted half-heartedly. “Really, Viktor, wouldn’t we be able to skip this stuff? I’d rather figure out what all of these positions are. Do people actually name them—”

Viktor’s fingers ghosted underneath Yuuri’s chin, gently lifting so that their eyes could meet. The space between them was too small for their shared breaths, Viktor’s gaze too intense and too close for Yuuri to focus properly. It was equal parts sultry and mildly frustrated. Yuuri felt Viktor’s thumb rub lightly over his lower lip, attentive to every minute detail.

“I thought you wanted to work on lines, Yuuri,” Vitya whispered, “you’ve really got to stop changing your mind. You’re sending a lot of mixed signals.”

Yuuri’s breath came out more shakily than he would have liked. “S-S-Sorry,” he stuttered, wondering how it was possible that Viktor could flip his switch so easily. His voice was low, husky and inviting, without even trying. Yuuri’s cheeks were burning and he hated it. “It’s just… lines are made up of words I know, so they’re easier to memorize. But I don’t even know what these positions are…”

Viktor’s hand was gone and his warmth receded, leaving Yuuri’s flustered features exposed. Another thing he hated, especially paired with the ease with which Viktor could control it. But as he brought his gaze back to Viktor, he only saw gentle puzzlement.

“But they’ve been in all of our other scripts,” Viktor said. “Have you just been winging it?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I mean, sorta? We’ve changed every single script we had, though. And you said no one really followed scripts anyway…”

Viktor stood slowly, as if he were bored, pulling his arms above his head, highlighting the way his muscles began to loosen. Yuuri’s words died on his lips, silently cursing himself for being so shameless.

“Not everyone will be as accommodating as I am, Yuuri,” Viktor’s words strained from his stretch. “We’ll go through the basic positions today instead. When you’ve gotten those down, we’ll go through the lines once more and be done. The next time we practice, I expect you to be able to do a full run-through.”

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri rolled his eyes, nearly missing the dusting of pink on the tip of Viktor’s nose. But as soon as he had noticed it, the color was gone.

“What’s the first position you don’t understand?” Viktor quickly pointed to the packet.

Yuuri flipped through the pages before returning to the beginning of the instructions. “I guess… pretty much all of them? Except cowboy and doggy,” Yuuri’s tongue barely managed to form the words, saying them out loud being more embarrassing than it originally sounded in his head, “I know those.”

Viktor blinked. “You’re vanilla, aren’t you?”

“I’m not— what?” Yuuri was caught off guard. “I am not. I just don’t feel the need to say every position I use as I’m doing it.”

“Hmm,” Viktor raised an eyebrow, “that would make for some interesting teacher-student dynamics, though. I wouldn’t mind doing a scene like that with you. Maybe I’ll have Yakov change some things—”

“No more changes!” Yuuri pleaded. “Not yet, at least.”

Viktor chuckled. “Okay, okay. So,” he leaned over Yuuri to read the packet upside down, his bangs falling away to brush over the top of Yuuri’s head, his breath cool across Yuuri’s forehead, “I guess the first one is afternoon delight.”

“I-It sounds ridiculous,” Yuuri commented.

Viktor nodded. “The names get pretty creative. Let’s see, with this one, you’re supposed to lay on your back and— well, it’s a lot like the butterfly. Do you know that one?”

Yuuri’s brows knit close together. “So it’s just us facing each other?”

“It’s more like,” Viktor started, then paused to choose his wording, “you sort of have to hold yourself up, but it would involve the ramp—” he frowned then, unsure. “I think it would be easier if I showed you. Demonstrate it, yeah? Come here,” Viktor held out his hand as he stood from the side of the tub.

Yuuri figured language would probably fail both of them, anyway, and it wasn’t like they would be able to talk it out on set during filming. He took Viktor’s hand and allowed himself to be lifted out of the tub. It was gentle, the way his fingers molded their way around Yuuri’s. Viktor walked over and knelt down in front of the widest part of the ramp, the other end tapering off to the floor. He gently pulled Yuuri’s hand, and Yuuri followed suit, sitting beside him.

“Lay down on this so that your butt is elevated,” Viktor instructed, patting the foam.

Yuuri shuffled over, laying half of his back on the cool tile and the other half onto the ramp. It was surprisingly soft, the felt like warm velvet against his spine and hips. Yuuri carefully swung his leg around so that they lay over the top of the ramp, one on either side of Viktor. From this vantage point, Yuuri realized just how intimately close they were. And it didn’t help that Viktor looked naked from this angle, Yuuri’s own hips blocking his view of Viktor’s swimming shorts.

“L-Like this?” Yuuri asked, willing his blush to stay below the surface this time.

Viktor’s eyes roamed over him, analyzing, thoughtful. “Hold the backs of your knees, legs spread,” Viktor amended.

Yuuri did as he was told, his butt automatically angled a little higher, perfectly lined up for him. “Now?”

Vitya’s eyes shone. “Perfect, Yuuri,” he complimented as he shifted closer to emulate the position more clearly. His pale fingers were grasping the sides of the ramp, knuckles white, and Yuuri could sense the heat of Vitya’s body dangerously close to touching him. Despite the elevation, Yuuri felt his blood rushing south at the praise.

They were silent for a moment, Yuuri trying to retain the feel of everything all at once while at the same time trying not to think about the fact that they would do this naked in a matter of a couple days. He had to repeat it to himself that this was just practice. He wanted to be good at this. If he wasn’t good, he would be fired and he would be without a job. Viktor was being gracious in helping him, no doubt because he had a hefty reputation to uphold. Yuuri didn’t want to be a barrier to that.

“So,” Viktor began astutely, “where would the camera be for the best possible angle?”

Yuuri finally remembered their reason for doing this and pursed his lips, moving his head around to get a better idea of where things were. He brought his head up, straining his neck, so that a finger could push up his glasses from this compromised position. “I’d probably put it above my head.”

“Okay, where else?” Viktor prompted.

Yuuri concentrated, his brows knitting closer together. “Behind you?”

Viktor shook his head, letting go of Yuuri’s ankle and making his hand into a fist, holding it in the air just off the side of his shoulder. He snickered, emulating a camera click. If it hadn’t been for their suggestive position still at the forefront of Yuuri’s mind, he would have been shaking his head with a giggle. The gesture was unnecessary— and adorable.

“C’mon, Yuuri,” Viktor goaded, “I know you’re new at this, but try thinking about other porn you’ve watched. Where were the cameras?”

_They were always focused on you_ , was what Yuuri was about to blurt out until he thought better of it. He knew his face was definitely red now if it hadn’t been before.

“Okay, I get it,” Yuuri said finally, feeling more self-conscious by the second. “What’s next?”

Viktor sucked in a breath but didn’t move from his spot to grab the script. “Usually this position turns into a version of the butterfly with one of your legs on my shoulder.”

“Is that what’s written in the script?” Yuuri asked, concerned that they might be doing it wrong. He would trust Vitya knew what he was doing, but they were also trying to follow the script for once.

Viktor nodded, seemingly sure of himself, like he was with everything. “Yakov wouldn’t write in sudden position changes early on.”

Yuuri, without being prompted and assured by Viktor’s words, let go of his legs and hooked his right ankle onto Viktor’s shoulder, his free leg widening to lay against the edge of the ramp. The stretch felt nice. “So it’s like this, right?”

Viktor’s shoulders went rigid, but a hand came up to wrap around Yuuri’s lifted ankle while the other hand put the barest amount of quivering pressure to the inside of his thigh. A little close, but small and barely there. He shifted his weight to his knees to adjust the angle and leaned forward, still not quite touching Yuuri where it would matter— a fact for which Yuuri was grateful. He was barely containing his reaction to the sight of having Vitya hovering over him as it was.

Ironically, Yuuri never felt more bare than he did right now, being the only one fully clothed in this situation.

“Right,” Viktor muttered. “You’re a quick learner, Yuuri.”

Those words were distinctly Vitya, the way that they travelled through where their skin connected and lighting up every nerve inside Yuuri. He was nearly upset with how easily this was affecting him. “T-Thanks.”

“Camera?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri took this new position into account. “Opposite the last one?”

Vitya grinned. “Not so hard, right?” he asked rhetorically before letting go of Yuuri and getting up to retrieve the script. Viktor changed the page and issued instructions for the next position. Yuuri continued following his words to the best of his ability, although occasionally language failed them. That was when Viktor would move Yuuri’s limbs for him, never forcing any stretch further with anything but a light touch. It was reassuring that Viktor seemed to ask, without words, where the line was for them, and Yuuri in turn prompted Viktor with questions, eager to be sure and correct.

After being guided through the first five, Viktor had them go through the motions without instruction as a test for Yuuri. They settled into the start, Yuuri lying back on the ramp and holding his own legs apart while Viktor set the script face down on the side of the tub.

The first run-through was messy, limbs bumping into each other awkwardly followed by small ‘oh’s and giggles. Yuuri’s heel glanced Viktor’s jaw. He laughed it off despite the flustered apology tumbling from Yuuri’s lips. At first, Yuuri would stop, too embarrassed to continue because _Vitya_ never made mistakes like this. _Vitya_ didn’t get so nervous that he had to ask for practice. Viktor assured him that he wanted the practice, too. He said as much, wanting to learn all of Yuuri’s angles, all of his quirks. Yuuri barely got through it with his dignity intact.

The second run-through was marginally better.

By the fourth time around— at Yuuri’s stubborn insistence— they began pushing and pulling each other without ever touching longer than the briefest of moments, dancing around each other with the ebb and flow of their bodies, complementing each movement with its counter. Wordless caresses of fingers to legs, skin barely fluttering over skin, guided them back and forth, whoever was leading becoming less and less clear. Their eyes never strayed, losing contact only when they were closed, committing to memory the feel of—

Yuuri’s mind grew curious. He slid his hand up Vitya’s bare chest, no traces of hair to be found, fingers curling warily. He pushed with more force than they had been using up until this point. Viktor easily acquiesced, trusting Yuuri as he fell to the tile with a mildly surprised _thud_. His eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mix of curiosity, shock, and something simmering just below the crystalline surface.

Yuuri, in the sudden change, was standing on his knees, not quite touching Viktor’s crotch but leaning his weight against Viktor’s thighs behind him, Viktor having raised his legs up in response to keep both their balances. Nearly stumbling due to the forward momentum, however, Yuuri’s hand on Viktor’s chest wasn’t enough to stop him from continuing to fall. Vitya’s hands shot up and caught the sides of Yuuri’s shoulders, righting him back up as his hand trailed down Yuuri’s chest, almost in awe. Both of his hands came to rest at Yuuri’s hips, stilling immediately, as if afraid to move further.

They stared at each other, the look in their eyes holding the same emotions, not quite overcome by the embarrassment of realization just yet. Yuuri took in the sight below him, drinking in every detail from Viktor’s chest slowly rising and falling, to the way his skin flushed over his cheeks and down his neck, to how Viktor’s gaze never left his, almost seeming to beg.

In the back of his mind, Yuuri knew they should stop. They had covered what he wanted, and they needed to begin going over lines once more. It would have been better to cut this off here and pretend it was normal. Pretend that it meant he was doing his job correctly and conclude the lesson with a brief goodbye, followed by promptly running home and hiding his face in his pillows for the coming days. But he was hard and it was impossible to hide now.

And with how absolutely _captivated_ Viktor looked, pinned to the bathroom floor by Yuuri, his sense of power surged, overtaking his rational mind. He tentatively lowered his hips until he felt the pressure of Viktor’s body meeting his. Yuuri was surprised to find that Viktor was also firm beneath him.

At the contact, Viktors parted lips let out the slightest gasp, almost too quiet to hear. Taking this as permission, Yuuri lifted his hips, shifted, and settled back down again, allowing more of his weight to rest on the man below him. Neither party denied the heat that thrummed between them. Yuuri’s hips began to move, ticking forward, adding friction that was borderline unfair to both of them.

Or at least Viktor must have thought so, because soon he was pushing his hips off the ground to increase the pressure between them. They both took a sharp intake of breath, scared to break the relative silence with any vocalization of pleasure, an agreement knowing that any sound might force them back into reality.

Because here in the bubble they created, the world didn’t care— it didn’t matter who they were, which role they were playing. They weren’t Vitya and Eros, they weren’t Viktor and Yuuri. They were just two people chasing— chasing something. Release, truth, satisfaction, reciprocation; none of it mattered. The moment was theirs and theirs alone to seize without repercussion for the time being.

Guilt would come later.

They continued mindlessly, Viktor’s hands beginning to wander back up Yuuri’s body, tender and careful, like Yuuri might disappear if he moved too quickly. His hands mapped out everything he could reach, slowly, reverently, never once dipping under his shirt to expose skin Yuuri so desperately wanted him to touch. Yuuri’s hand wove its way on top of Viktor’s, capturing and quelling the shivers reassuringly as he guided it where he liked it, where he wanted it, where he needed it. Viktor followed with every bit of his undivided attention as Yuuri kept a rhythm.

Yuuri’s hand stilled as their hands came to rest over his heart. His body was focused on different muscles, his hand falling away to rest on his thighs that were beginning to burn from the unintended exercise. Viktor’s hand remained, palm smoothing over the area of the shirt that crumpled as Yuuri continued to grind his hips a little too eagerly.

Yuuri closed his eyes and let his instinct take over, his mind somewhere in the distance trying to tell him something incoherent, as Viktor’s hand moved on its own. Fingertips traced his collarbone from the center outward, delicately outlining the curve of his neck up to the edge of his jaw before trailing back down to the tip of his chin. There was a gentle pulling motion once, twice, before Yuuri recognized that Viktor was trying to get his attention.

They met, blue eyes to brown, in their respective hazes. Viktor’s hair was splayed out from his face, bangs falling away to expose him for Yuuri, colors of sea glass offering a mosaic of unbridled desire. Desire unbefitting of a pornstar, and that said something.

Viktor rested his palm against Yuuri’s jaw, or as close as he could reach from their position, and pulled again, something urgent in the gesture. His hand was shaking imperceptibly, heated but willing itself to ask what his voice could not.

Yuuri obliged, leaning down and bracing himself over Viktor. Their bodies were pressing flush together, Yuuri’s shirt have lifted slightly in the process so that there was the barest amount of skin to skin contact. It was warm, too warm, where they met setting a fire as their eyes never left each other.

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed out, the name on his lips like it belonged there.

Yuuri closed his eyes, licking his lips before biting them, thoughts whirring around and vying for his attention. He thought he had a question on his lips when a harsh, tinny electric sound gave them both pause.

Yuuri’s cell phone was ringing.

He had already been well on his way to rational thought just before with the peculiar way Viktor was beginning to act, but now the loud ringtone jarred his entire being. He became hyper aware of the wealth of contact Viktor and he were sharing, of what had escalated to bring them to this point. It was true that they had been closer than this before on set, with far less clothing on Yuuri’s end, but those times were meant to bring them to a proper goal: a completed shoot. What had just transpired, Yuuri began to suspect, seemed to search out something very different. Yuuri couldn’t trust himself to put words to it, but he supposed this type of practice would help him get used to the physicality between them.

So, really, this practice had been a weird sort of success, as far as Yuuri was concerned.

Yuuri swung his leg back over Viktor’s body in an effort to clamber off of him gracefully, if it were possible to ever do so after holding such a position for so long. Before he stood, he thought he felt Viktor’s other hand grip his side, digging into his hip whereas the hand on his face had disappeared the moment the phone rang. But when he made to move away from Viktor and toward his phone, the touch did not grab, pull, or linger. The warmth Yuuri didn’t realize had increased was suddenly gone and replaced by a chilling emptiness. He mourned the loss before he could put a name to it, picking up his phone without checking who was calling.

“Hello?” Yuuri’s soft-spoken voice echoed too loud, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

“ _Yuuri_?” Phichit’s voice burst from the speaker, causing both Yuuri and Viktor to wince. “ _Where are you? Are you okay? I called the office and Yakov said you ended your shoot over three hours ago. You weren’t answering your phone either. Is something wrong? Are you lost? Yuuri_ —”

“Whoa, whoa, Phichit!” Yuuri cut off his friend before his fretting worsened. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m at— I went to the dance studio. I felt like practicing.”

Silence for a moment. Viktor’s head snapped up, body still lying on the floor, and he shot Yuuri a look.

“ _Oh. Okay. Yeah. I forgot to check there,_ ” Phichit’s tone was layered. “ _You haven’t been back there in awhile. Just promise me you’ll come home soon?_ ”

“I will, Phichit,” Yuuri promised. “I was just packing up.”

“ _Alright, I’ll see you_ — _oh,_ ” there was a shuffling noise over the line, “ _the landlord called and said we need to make a decision about renewing the lease for next year. Did you decide if you were going to go back to Japan?_ ”

Yuuri’s gut fell into a bottomless pit, his shoulders slumping. Viktor’s gaze no doubt picked up on the change. “When does he need an answer?”

“ _He said he wanted to know by the weekend,_ ” Phichit answered. “ _Do you think you’ll have an answer by then? I know how bad you are at making decisions_.”

Yuuri stole a glance toward Viktor, who was sitting up with his hands in his cross-legged lap. There was a noticeable bulge that gave away what they had been doing. Or about to do. Yuuri tried to focus on his conversation with Phichit. “I-I’ll have a decision by then, yeah.”

“ _Okay, well, we can talk about it more later this week if you want,_ ” Phichit offered, hopefully still oblivious.

“Sounds good,” Yuuri agreed a tad too quickly. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“ _See you soon. Don’t scare me like that again, Katsuki_ ,” Phichit warned, then, in a different tone: “ _Love you!_ ”

Yuuri chuckled quietly, his heart not quite in it. “Bye,” he said before hanging up.

Yuuri and Viktor shared no more words than what was necessary as they picked themselves up, both awkwardly fixing their arousal to make it less obvious, although no one knew but each other. Yuuri stole occasional but fruitless glances, only seeing a man with a set, single-minded determination toward the task at hand. On the rare chance their eyes met, Yuuri looked away instantly, willing the embarrassment to stop painting his cheeks brighter than a summer sunset. There were things he had to think through before assigning any meaning to their interactions, and he couldn’t think through them while Viktor was so close to him. He would wait until he went home to begin sorting everything out.

Viktor leaned against the kitchen countertop a few feet away, watching as Yuuri pulled on his shoes and coat. The sense of his eyes on Yuuri, colder now than it had been just a few minutes ago, wasn’t predatory. But it didn’t feel comforting, either. He was scrutinizing him somehow, probably picking apart their practice session in his mind, critiques forming on his tongue although he said nothing.

Yuuri had his hand on the door knob. He paused, gulping. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Vitya.”

The look of confusion, mixed with something else unreadable, that spread across the other man’s face told Yuuri that perhaps he had overstepped the line. He wouldn’t be sure of that until he got home later, pouring over each and every minute detail of this evening’s events, wondering if this had been a good idea at all. In hindsight, he probably could have just googled these things and saved them all the trouble.

The biting realization hurt so much that he didn’t wait for a reply before shutting Vitya’s door and returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/) about these dorks!


	7. Philia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where no one can speak directly and everyone is confused, despite plenty of talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST 4,000 HITS MORE COMPARED TO LAST CHAPTER. GUYS. This is insane. Thank you all so much I am so glad you are enjoying this fic this much. I hope I deliver!
> 
> (I did as much editing as I could before my flight but hhhhhh there's probably some mistakes. I'll fix them when I can!)
> 
> People who requested Chris/Yuuri pole dance (or some combination thereof if my notes are correct) were MetroidPrincess, robokitte, frozen_miruku, Anon anon anon, and nikiforovu. Here ya go!

When Phichit asked how Yuuri’s time at the studio went, Yuuri just shrugged. The studio had been near closing but they had allowed him to go in alone, or that was what he had said. He supposed the excuse worked because Phichit didn’t question him further.

When Yuuri walked into work the next day, Yurio gave him a harsher sneer than normal, but other than that nothing was out of the ordinary. Not that he expected anyone to ask anything, but it felt like an improvement nonetheless. The air between Viktor and himself had been so palpable yesterday that Yuuri was certain he carried the atmosphere with him wherever he went. If this happened during filming, how was he going to survive?

Sex on camera, as it turned out, might be a bit more than he could handle. But he would try anyway. _Eros_ would do it.

Vitya was _Eros_ without even trying. And after last night, it was clear that Viktor knew how to put on that mask. Yuuri had thought it was weird that a pornstar like Vitya could also act like a complete dork with a poodle like Viktor, but seeing first hand that Viktor could be whoever he needed to be only affirmed Yuuri’s suspicion. Viktor was a thorough professional. Yuuri had to prove he was up to the challenge. Prove that he was the sole incarnation of _Eros_ , nobody else.

He still had one more day to figure out how to do that, thankfully.

Yuuri’s recording session wasn’t until after the lunch block that day, but he decided he wanted to get in some time in the ballet studio on set. He had gone on a run earlier that morning— if anyone could consider 10am early, Yuuri definitely did— and done stretches that reminded him of late nights in the university ballet studios, dancing and reciting facts for his exams the following day when he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. They reminded him of waiting backstage for his number to come on, for his performance to begin. And since he was slowly warming to the mood, he figured he may as well keep the ball rolling.

Yuuri was at the door to the ballet studio when he heard voices muffled on the other side. His hand retracted from the doorknob, his body turning to walk away and leave whoever was in there to their privacy. The light above the door wasn’t on, so they weren’t filming, but they had gotten there first and Yuuri wasn’t going to disrespect that.

Then he heard his name, allowing curiosity to get the best of him. Cautiously, he stuck his ear to the door and scrunched his eyes shut, focusing intently.

“ _Maybe you should stop this, Viktor,_ ” a deep voice sent muted vibrations through the door— Chris maybe?

“ _Then he was complaining that he didn’t know what the positions were_ ,” Viktor’s voice resounded in agitation, strained by some sort of movement and hard to piece together.

Chris must have mumbled something under his breath, because Yuuri couldn’t make it out.

There were several small thumps on the floor, sliding sounds like socks on kitchen tiles. Yuuri wondered if one of them was dancing. “ _He’s just so nervous_ — _you’d think he would understand_ —”

Yuuri had heard enough. He shoved his weight off the door but didn’t have it in him to move away. His mind raced to find the context for what transpired. To have his thoughts confirmed once again, by Viktor’s own mouth, should have hurt more. But perhaps he was glad. They were coworkers, nothing more. This way, neither of them would have to pretend. Yuuri understood now.

Practices were a part of the game.

A game that Yuuri realized he would have to play if he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. The last rule of the studios was running through his mind again, the one telling him not to pursue other actors. He knew he wore his heart on his sleeves, but at least he was becoming aware of it early on. He could still figure this out.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri jumped, slapping his hand over his mouth to cover the embarrassing noise he’d just made at being caught snooping. Turning, he saw Phichit with his hand outstretched, like he had been about to tap Yuuri’s shoulder. “You okay, Yuuri?”

Yuuri swore he heard Viktor and Chris on the other side stop in their tracks. He panicked, grabbing Phichit’s wrist and tugging him away down the hall to the nearest open door. Not finding one, he dragged them to the base of the stairwell. He was about to dash forward up the stairs when Phichit yanked him back and gripped his shoulders hard.

“Yuuri!” Phichit sounded insistent. “What’s going on? You weren’t like this last night. What happened?”

“They almost heard us,” was all Yuuri could manage, panting in the aftermath.

Phichit released his hold, knowing it would only scare Yuuri further, and a scared Yuuri wouldn’t talk out his thoughts. “Alright, okay. Breathe, Yuuri. Tell me what changed between last night and right now.”

Even if Yuuri wanted to tell Phichit the truth, to tell him what he heard and why it hurt, he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling what he was feeling, only that it felt wrong. It felt like the world was pointing daggers at his back, waiting for him to slip.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Phichit,” Yuuri admitted. “I’m so… so inexperienced.”

Phichit furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you talking about sex? Really, Yuuri? You’ve locked me out of our dorm more nights than I want to talk about.”

Yuuri rubbed his arm, shrugging and nodding, distant. Just because Phichit said something didn’t mean it was true. He was just trying to make his friend feel better. But Yuuri didn’t want pity. “But I’m not anywhere near as experienced as—”

“— as Vitya?” Phichit asked. “Is that what this is about?”

This, in fact, _wasn’t_ his main problem, not really, but it was _a problem_ , and he knew this one was easier to confront. And hey, as long as he tried to solve one problem, it meant he was progressing, right? One step at a time. Phichit would understand what it was Yuuri was having trouble with, and he could give wonderful advice. His advice worked out more often than not, although the times it didn’t were times Yuuri dared not repeat. They stood around in the silence of the stairwell, collecting thoughts and stale oxygen.

“Yuuri,” Phichit began, still trying to string words together in his mind, it seemed, “Vitya is older than us, that much I’m sure. Of course he’s going to have more experience.”

“I _know_ that, Phichit,” Yuuri said, “but I’m—” _oh_ — “I’m dragging him down. He could be filming with so many others right now, but instead he’s just playing around with me. Why?”

Phichit took a breath but otherwise didn’t move, didn’t let his eyes stray from Yuuri’s. A calm rock to which Yuuri knew he could tether himself, to ride out the storm of emotions he couldn’t fight against on his own.

“He obviously likes you,” he said as straight-laced as possible, meaning clear as day.

Yuuri’s jaw went slack as he simply stared at his friend. This was not what he wanted to hear. Phichit, his closest friend, was supposed to say things like _he isn’t playing with you_ or _maybe he’s biding his time for something else_ or anything else that would explain Viktor’s behavior that seemed moderately plausible.

“I’ve been here less than two weeks,” Yuuri reminded him, a slight tonal shift away from desperation. “Viktor’s been here for who knows how many years, slept with a bunch of people, and I’m just a dancer looking to pay rent. I’m not good at se— I’m not ‘sexy.’”

Phichit let his eyes wander to the ceiling, carefully revealing nothing except a small pout. It looked like he was struggling with something, his fists tight at his sides before releasing. “Yuuri,” Phichit began again with little more than a breath, but as gentle as the first time Yuuri came to him homesick and crying, “he picked you to film with. Obviously you’re sexy.”

It boggled Yuuri’s mind that Phichit could say something so brash with the kindest face. “But—”

“ _No,_ Yuuri,” Phichit wagged his finger, his voice acclimating to normal pitch, “no buts. Not even yours, great as it is.”

“ _Phichit!_ ” Yuuri warned, although it came out more as a squeak. His friend wasn’t taking this seriously, wasn’t taking _him_ seriously, and it seemed so misplaced. Phichit had always been Yuuri’s pillar, why was it crumbling now?

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Phichit quipped back, then closed his eyes and let out a long breath, expelling whatever it was that held the uncharacteristic scowl on his face. “You want to show him you’re worth his time, right? Show him the best damn time you can, and I guarantee he’ll want to film with you again. That is what you want, isn’t it? To keep filming with him?”

Yuuri thought about it for a moment, plopping himself down onto the staircase, letting the cool concrete sap the warmth and wake him up a little. He twiddled his thumbs and slid his foot back and forth along the concrete, listening to the gravelly crunch beneath. His thoughts whirled around him, hazy and unformed but potent and dizzying, centering finally on the idea he didn’t think he would reach.

Phichit was right.

“I-I want to film with Vitya,” Yuuri admitted, feeling so open but simultaneously held together as Phichit sat beside him and hugged him. One arm was around his shoulder and the other snaked across his chest while Phichit’s head nuzzled in the crook of his shoulder. Hearing Phichit’s measured breathing so close, feeling Phichit’s pulse next to his, helped Yuuri keep his composure.

“Is this okay?” Phichit asked in a murmur.

Yuuri didn’t answer but subconsciously leaned in anyway. He still felt so weak, so pitiful, but he knew why, and that feeling from last week came to him again. That _need_ to hold onto something he hadn’t felt before. At first, it had just been a pull, a desire to command on camera like he had the pole and the stage. Now he realized he only wanted to do so if Vitya was filming with him, which went against all conceptions of a pornstar, but Yuuri found that he didn’t care.

He wanted to hold onto Vitya.

The door’s metal jam clicked open and squeaked as the door swung. Yuuri and Phichit craned their necks up instantaneously to find Viktor walking onto the stairwell, almost not seeing them until he wanted to walk up the steps. With the pair blocking him, naturally, he had to look down and finally take notice of them.

There was something off about Viktor today. Yuuri tried to piece it together in that moment where their eyes met. There were strands of hair standing on end, lying over the wrong side of his part, and tired eyes that burrowed deep in his sockets, accentuated by wrinkles from lack of sleep. By appearances, he did not look the greatest, which said a lot compared to his usual flawless perfection. He still looked perfect, mussed like this, but it wasn’t from sexual release. If anything, there was a new tension in his shoulders, which confused Yuuri because he had just been in the ballet studio, right? It had sounded like he had been dancing. Had he forgotten to stretch? That still didn’t compensate for the apprehension hidden in his gaze.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice slurred at last as he grabbed a hold of the railing beside them. He mumbled something incoherently, “...with Phichit?”

Phichit figured it out before Yuuri did. “Are you drunk?” he asked as he stood up, subtly placing himself between the two of them. It was a curious sight, because Phichit was just telling Yuuri to go for what he wanted and now he stood in the way. Viktor wouldn’t hurt him. For as little time as he had known him, Yuuri had this gut feeling that Viktor could never do that.

Viktor took a moment, his head jerking back belatedly as he regarded Phichit with furrowed brows, like Phichit had just popped in out of nowhere. “Disastrously hungover, thanks for pointing it out.”

Phichit placed a hand on his arm and Yuuri realized Phichit wasn’t protecting either of them, he was just being the kind and considerate person Yuuri knew him to be. It was endearing, comforting even. “Do you want some water?”

“That’d be nice,” Viktor sighed, expelling the sour stench of alcohol and unbrushed teeth.

Yuuri had to give Phichit credit; he was closer to the source of the smell than Yuuri was and his face muscles didn’t so much as flinch. It wasn’t like he had any practice with Yuuri or anything. “I’ll go get you some, okay? Stay here with Yuuri. And _don’t_ climb those stairs without help.”

Viktor’s laugh was short, overemphasized. “I don’t need to be babied.”

“Mhmm,” Phichit raised his eyebrows and bit on his lips, a telling sign that he didn’t believe something he was hearing. “Just stay put.”

Viktor said nothing as Phichit left the stairwell, now alone together with Yuuri. Air as thick as a brick wall separated them, and Yuuri knew he was the one at fault. He was the one embarrassed about himself, not knowing where to draw the professional line. If this was what he got for taking a misstep in practice, he couldn’t fathom doing something wrong on camera.

But Yuuri wasn’t lying earlier, he really did want this. He _wanted_ this so badly, his competitive side wouldn’t say otherwise. There had to be a way to scale this wall.

Too bad he was absolutely awful at mending things with words.

“Do you have to film today?” Yuuri decided to ask first, swallowing his nerves.

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded, until he realized that was a bad idea and clutched at his head, “with Mila.”

He filmed with women, too? Yuuri gave pause to the statement. He hadn’t seen anything like that in Vitya’s videos before. Then again, he also exclusively checked that one section on those sites. Instead of voicing his surprise— and subsequently outing his Vitya fanboy past (and present)— Yuuri tried to comment on a different aspect. “I thought you weren’t supposed to film with someone while drunk.”

Viktor tried to laugh, but it was slightly strained. “ _Hungover_ , I’m hungover. Not drunk,” Viktor explained again, as if saying it more than once would prove he was in a proper state of mind.

There was a silence between them again, one that Yuuri knew he couldn’t breach. Viktor seemed to be thinking about something, warring over his inner words and finally giving up, taking a seat next to Yuuri but nowhere near touching. “You’re so cruel, Yuuri.”

“It’s your own fault,” Yuuri pointed out. Judging by the fact that this hangover had lasted until almost noon, Viktor must have gotten absolutely _shitfaced_ well into the night before. And who does that when they have work the next day?

Another beat of silence and Yuuri was cursing to himself. He instantly regretted his words, knowing they were closing each other off once more. This wasn’t going anywhere.

Viktor threaded a hand through his silver locks, exhaling long and low. “Do you wanna call off our recording?”

“What? N-no!” Yuuri practically yelled, several echoes bouncing off the concrete walls. “I just think I need more practice— lines! Practice with the lines!”

Viktor winced, grimacing and holding his head, before a smile cracked a second later. “Why aren’t you this loud when we film?”

Of all the things Viktor lectured about, it was Yuuri’s _volume_? Yuuri had thought for sure it was going to be about his body position or his facial expression or something more physical. “W-Wh— Sorry,” Yuuri stumbled, still trying to convince himself that Viktor was really complaining about him being quiet. No one had ever complained about that, but if it was coming from him… “I-I can fix that. I mean— I’ll be the loudest!” _Anything to keep you for just a little longer._

Viktor shriveled in on himself as the echoes attacked from all sides. “Well, that’s good, but right now could you be quieter? I can’t listen to all three of you at once.”

Yuuri clamped a hand over his mouth, a blush blooming across his cheeks. He was honestly surprised his cheeks hadn’t given up earlier. “S-Sorry, again…”

Viktor shook his head, finally turning to look at Yuuri with those ethereal eyes. This time, they were smiling, beaming warm blues and something akin to... affection? Amusement. “It’s fine, Yuuri. But did you still want to practice?" Viktor added a millisecond later: "Just lines, of course.”

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah… yeah, just lines.” They could rebuild this, do this right.

“Tonight?” Viktor asked, hope in his voice.

Yuuri took a breath. This was good. Viktor was agreeable, even in this state. If Yuuri ventured, he might even say Viktor was opening up, meeting him where he was. A common understanding. “Um, is tomorrow okay? I’ll have the day off.”

Viktor made a noise of slight disapproval. “I film until late afternoon. I could text you when I’m done? You remember the way to my place, or…?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s— that sounds good,” Yuuri agreed eagerly, praying he didn’t look desperate to fix this, even if it was the only thing he wanted.

The only indication that Viktor was startled by Yuuri’s forwardness was a slight raise of his eyebrows. It was quickly replaced by an easier smile, not wider, but shaped more like he was genuinely happy. The emotion was mirrored on Yuuri, their eyes meeting and seeing more than words could say.

They sat there, the entire world crawling past them, leaving them to unplug, to disconnect from the reality that would soon separate them. The pull was electric, intoxicating, addicting.

Viktor parted his lips slowly, searching for an answer in Yuuri’s features before he spoke. “Yuuri.”

“Hm?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

Viktor licked his lips. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

His hand moved off his lap and toward Yuuri’s that still lay on the step in the space between them, hesitant but about to touch, when the door to the stairwell opened and Phichit returned. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri thought he saw Viktor’s face crumble, but it was composed as soon as he took full notice of it. Almost too quick, but enough to cast a shadow of doubt over Yuuri’s mind.

Phichit had a water bottle and a cupped hand held out in front of him. He looked at the pair curiously for a moment but didn’t comment on it. “I brought you Advil,” Phichit nodded to his hand, “you think you’ll be okay to film?”

“I didn’t know Yakov hired a second parent for me,” Viktor joked a bit more easily, rolling with the interruption without missing a beat. Yuuri was still sitting there wondering what had been about to transpire. “Thanks, though. I’ll get headed now. Mila hates it when I’m late.”

“Go get her,” Phichit punched Viktor’s shoulder in mock encouragement. “Or she’ll throw the chair at you again.”

Viktor chuckled as he began to climb the stairs. “I’m sure she’ll throw _me_ at the chair this time.”

Yuuri wanted to say something, but he hadn’t had the time to think of what would make him sound the least like an outsider attempting to be relevant. Viktor was at the halfway landing about to turn and head up the next flight when Yuuri called out softly.“Take care of yourself, okay?”

Viktor paused, hand taking a hold of the rail to steady himself. He regarded Yuuri silently, his smile growing increasingly warm, some other emotion simmering below the surface. “As you wish.”

If Phichit looked like he was about to ask a question, he didn’t. Which meant twice now he had respected Yuuri’s ill-advised decision to remain silent on the matter. Yuuri knew he owed Phichit an explanation, and he would do so when he figured out what exactly it was between him and Viktor that he had to explain.

* * *

Yuuri ate a quaint lunch with Phichit down the street, trying not to think about meeting with Viktor tomorrow. He wasn’t overly excited, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to go. Practicing to himself in his own head, he nearly missed Phichit saying he was going to film a pole dancing routine after lunch.

His thoughts had been wandering as he picked at a sandwich, having eaten the most he could from it. Then Phichit’s words hit him and he dropped the piece of soggy lettuce that had been pinched between his fingers.

“You’re filming my routine?”

Phichit paused, apparently already in the middle of another sentence when Yuuri had blurted out his realization. “You’re going to pole dance with Chris? Yuuri! I thought you would have never pole danced for good after quitting _Desirious._ ”

Now Yuuri was realizing two things: he was going to pole dance with Chris— someone Phichit had told him _all_ about whether he wanted to know or not— _and_ his best friend was going to film them practically grinding each other on a pole.

“Yakov asked since I can’t film with Vitya,” Yuuri explained, staring down at the table like his eyes could bore holes in the wood, using all of his willpower to force the blush to disappear. He had told Phichit about _that_ incident and didn’t want to repeat it again, lest Phichit break down into laughter again.

“Nervous?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri figured his friend was asking in reference to their talk on the stairwell, and how it may impact his filming performance. “Just a little. Is he good?”

Phichit, in an obvious answer that Yuuri should have seen coming, pulled out his phone and quickly searched for videos including “Ass Master Poledancer.” Did not one of the people he knew understand public decency?

Regardless, the video of his pole routines weren’t something to wave off. The man was good. Sensual, body-conscious, and definitely ripped. He kept the beat of the song and had the legs of a Greek god. The longer he watched, the more Yuuri felt intimidated instead of reassured.

Phichit stole his phone back as soon as the video ended, causing Yuuri to look up from his daze. “You ready to dance? I have this bet with him about who’s the better dancer, and I know you don’t want to be paying for dinner tonight.”

Yuuri shook his head and smirked. His friend was always doing the unnecessary, always looking to create a laugh for his sake. Phichit was incredibly ridiculous, but at least he was a constant in Yuuri’s life. That sort of stability was wholly welcoming, as unorthodox as it was in its execution.

It was the sort of stability Yuuri needed as they stood outside the door to _SV Studios’_ ballet studio. Phichit kept a hand on his shoulder as he sucked in a deep breath and knocked before entering. “Excuse me, sorry for interrupting!”

The tall, stubble-faced blond turned his head immediately. He was leaning against a pole that rested between his shoulder blades, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms folded casually. When their eyes met, Chris’ expressions shifted several times in succession before settling on a charming smile and a nonchalant wave. “ _Bonjour_ , Yuuri, Phichit.”

“Hi, Chris!” Phichit greeted. “You ready to dance with the one-and-only Yuuri Katsuki?”

Chris stood straight up, the pole shaking from being free of the weight. “You mean _the_ Yuuri Katsuki? _He’s_ the Yuuri you keep talking about?”

Yuuri instantly flushed. “What have you told him, Phichit?”

Phichit just shrugged, a smug grin on his face.

“You went to Wayne State, right?” Chris asked further, walking closer. He was much taller than Yuuri anticipated, standing a head higher than him, and more so over Phichit. “Competed in the NYIBC?”

Yuuri turned and glared at his friend. Of all the things Phichit could tell a pornstar, he talked about his roommate’s bombed dance competitions. Some friend he was. No wonder he insisted on paying for lunch and gave him all the advice earlier.

Phichit must have sensed some of the animosity, because he took a step back. “Now, Yuuri… you did great there! It was one of your best performances ever!”

“Not when it mattered!” Yuuri hissed. He had done fine in getting to the final rounds, but when it came right down to it, he had failed. Mari had called to tell him that Vicchan was at the vet’s and was near death from being hit by a car and there was no way Yuuri could perform in that state. Someone stronger would have powered through, especially considering Vicchan ended up surviving. Yuuri was weak, and now who knew how many coworkers Phichit had told.

“Hey,” Chris’s hand wove its way around Yuuri’s waist, “here, you’re Eros. Not Yuuri Katsuki. Let’s perform a different dance with that in mind, yeah?” He winked, and somehow, in some way, it was more erotic than it should have been.

Perhaps that was because Yuuri’s brain just registered that Chris was stripping out of his tank top, leaving the only clothing on his person to be his underwear. The camera could never do him justice, but it came close. Yuuri wondered who was more of a novice here, because suddenly all memory of skill flew from his head.

“You can warm up if you want, I’ve already done mine,” Chris gestured to the pole, “just don’t undress yet. I want to do that on camera.”

Yuuri looked himself over. He was still wearing his sweatpants from his run but he knew what he had underneath would suit today’s activities. His hair was still left naturally down, so he would need to gel it before they started filming. He warmed up for a few minutes and got a feel for the sturdiness of the pole. When he was satisfied, he looked back to see Chris’s raised eyebrows.

“Not just good at ballet, that’s for sure,” he said in minutely sensual awe. “You know the piece we’re doing?”

Phichit walked back into the room and produced a tube of hair gel for Yuuri, who was eternally grateful yet again to have such a wonderful friend in this world, even if he was keen for gossip. He even began to pour some into his own hands before Yuuri could protest, motioning for him to kneel on the ground.

Yuuri complied before responding to Chris. “I saw it was mostly floorwork. I assume you know more than just that, though. Do you have the music?”

Chris dug out his phone and nodded to the speakers. “We’ll listen to it first. I wasn’t a huge fan of just doing floorwork. But if that’s how you warm up, we’d just be putting both our talents to waste if we didn’t do something more _thrilling_ ,” he winked again.

Yuuri’s cheeks burned with the compliment, only to burst into flames as the song came on. He recognized it as a popular track at _Desirious_. Yuuri eyed Chris warily as Phichit angled Yuuri’s head back with his goopy gel hands, muttering something about keeping his chin up to make this easier. Yuuri closed his eyes and steeled himself for what seemed like the millionth time that day, letting Phichit finish his hair. The only way to get through this was to ignore the better part of himself, to bring back that part of him that _liked_ the attention centered on him. He gulped uncertainly.

“You can do this, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered low in his ear, “I know you can. That’s why I’m here to cheer you on.”

“You just want to win a bet,” Yuuri pointed out.

“Because I know you’re good at this,” Phichit reciprocated, “and why would I waste such an excellent opportunity to show you off?”

“You’re awful,” Yuuri said before Chris sauntered back over to them and joined Yuuri on the floor, going over the various ideas he had for the routine. They sketched the various ideas with terribly-drawn stick figures on the back while the song played on a loop. Yuuri’s hands made a lot of wide, sweeping gestures in multiple attempts to convey what certain moves were to Chris. He knew the names after so many years of ballet study and several of pole dance, but clearly Chris knew next to nothing about the technical aspect. He just knew how to move.

The multitudes of videos were proof enough.

After a good fifteen minutes into their recording time had passed, Phichit cleared his throat while he stood by the camera. “You two think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think you get to lecture me about being late,” Chris said, some sort of innuendo hidden in there that Yuuri didn’t grasp but Phichit clearly did judging by the dusting of color on his cheeks.

Phichit ignored him otherwise, glancing at Yuuri for the signal. When Yuuri gave it, Phichit started the music and started recording.

Yuuri was already standing against the pole, his sweats clinging loosely to his hips. One arm was raised, wrapped around the pole, causing his shirt to ride up and expose the skin of his abdomen. Chris walked around the side, keeping Yuuri in front of the camera, slipping a hand to the expanse of skin as he ended up behind Yuuri.

Yuuri used his core to widen his legs as he held himself just off the floor, slowly dropping down into a squat. As his body slid, Chris’s hand caught the hem of his shirt and held it, lifting it up to expose more of Yuuri’s torso without ever moving it himself. From this position, Yuuri felt the beat vibrate through the floorboards, shooting up through his legs straight to his hips as he swung them side to side, rubbing against the pole that he knew separated himself from Chris.

His face relaxed, letting the music become the amphitheater to his feelings. Even if the emotions weren’t the same, he could expel them through each concentrated movement, focusing on himself. The only indication Chris was still there was the heat of his hand and the quiet creak of the pole as he began his sequence.

Yuuri opened his eyes to see Chris vaulting onto the pole, holding himself upside down so his face was close to Yuuri’s while his legs widened into a split up above. Their eyes locked, and verdant hues shimmered with intrigue. Yuuri replied with a smirk, playing his part by ghosting a hand over Chris’s cheek before gliding down his jaw, neck, then his chest, steadying the path for Chris to follow through and land in front of him with perfect poise.

Chris followed with his own hand back down Yuuri’s, over his chest and down to the hem of the shirt, pulling it off slowly. His hand grazed over Yuuri’s skin, warmer than Yuuri had reason to suspect. As the hand inched closer to one of his nipples, however, the composure broke. He kept his face straight as he shimmied back up the pole, unwilling to let Chris get to him just yet.

Chris’s face, away from the camera, grew more confused. “What’re you doing?”

Yuuri spun to the other side of the pole, glancing Chris’s touch, and shrugged his shirt off. He teased his front by side-eyeing Chris over his shoulder, arms hugging himself and caressing his sides as he grinded against the pole to the music. “Improvising,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing to himself as much as to Chris.

It took a moment, but Chris rolled with it. He wound his arm around the pole and spun around until he could pull Yuuri into his embrace as he came around. Yuuri wanted to squeak, but Eros reveled in the motion, arching his back and splaying his bare chest for display.

They held the pose for one rotation before Yuuri felt Chris’s hands tug lightly at his sweatpants. Yuuri deftly pulled them off, tossing them off camera. His underwear was slim and black, hugging the widest parts of his hips and cutting off just below the curve of his ass. He didn’t wear these often, but he knew from previous partners that they were easily his best.

Chris seemed to be of a similar opinion, because his eyes immediately gravitated to it. Yuuri used that to his advantage by using Chris’s leftover momentum to hike himself higher up onto the pole, leaving Chris to adhere to the original floorwork.

They mirrored each other from above and below, meeting and separating, limbs entangling and detangling. Around and around they went, chasing and being chased, flowing with the song as their guide. At the next bridge, they met standing, Chris’s height framing Yuuri’s.

But it was becoming dull. Chris wasn’t nearly trying as hard as Yuuri hoped he would. So he tested the waters.

Yuuri swung down, feigning a dive until he was positioned underneath Chris, angling himself in between his legs. One of Yuuri’s legs not wrapped around the pole hugged his own chest before stretching upward, softly sliding up Chris’s thigh, bypassing his crotch and resting on his abs, pointed and slender.

It got the reaction he’d been hoping for. Chris sighed, his chest expanding in surprise before he played along with it. Chris reprised his role at the top of the pole, keeping his motions stoic while Yuuri worked the floor.

Yuuri lay on his back, arching as he lifted his legs into the air, creating a wave with his split to frame Chris’s complex moves above him. When Yuuri spun around to plank in front of the pole, his ass was lined up with the pole from the camera’s point of view. He raised his hips, grinding in large circles. The only thing that would make the movement more lewd would be if there were a body below his.

At its apex, Chris hoisted him back up onto the pole with him to complete several sensual poses that should have been illegal in most countries. The limbs not clinging to the pole petted each other, sending waves of heat and chills down their spines at the same time. Holding each other up above the ground, Yuuri notice that Chris’s muscles were starting to twitch.

Yuuri smirked. “Tiring already?”

Chris chuckled away from the camera, looking at Yuuri curiously. “I wasn’t expecting your ass to actually look that good.”

Yuuri’s Eros dropped for a split second. “It’s nothing to lose your breath over.”

“You don’t give your ass nearly enough credit,” Chris countered, lowering them to the ground as his hand holding Yuuri began to wander over as much skin as it could reach.

“It’s really not that great—”

“Well, I always knew you had a great ass,” Chris was leaning in close, the cool metal bar between their bodies the only shred of decency left between them before Yuuri felt a hand playfully glide over said asset. It was laughable, really, that he was beginning to be affected by Chris’s forwardness just now.

Yuuri sucked in a breath but tried to let it slide. It wouldn’t do to let his real emotions slip on camera. “Always?”

“Oh, Viktor’s told me all about it,” Chris rolled his eyes, “he doesn’t shut up about it, or you in general, really.”

“Ah,” Yuuri answered noncommittally, regarding the pole with more attention and reverence than it warranted to stop his blush from increasing. He took note of Chris’s position and geared up to swing around, judging the momentum with each step he took before hiking himself up higher onto the pole and circling with it and Chris’s arm between his thighs.

“You’re going to be careful with him, right?” Chris asked as he mirrored Yuuri from below, spinning opposite him with an outstretched hand. “Because if you’re not, I’ll have a few words for you.”

Yuuri nearly slipped as he stretched out into the flag position, waiting for Chris’s foot to hold him up like a shelf. Were they really going to talk the entire time on camera? He didn’t particularly want people hearing this. “Careful how?” Yuuri asked quietly, lips moving subtly.

Chris hung upside down as one leg shot out to center Yuuri’s pose, the arch of his foot cleverly formed against Yuuri’s backside, kneading it suggestively despite their hushed conversation. “Viktor’s got a fragile heart,” was Chris’s cryptic response.

“We’re not supposed to get personally involved with each other,” Yuuri muttered, not entirely sure what point Chris was getting at.

Chris shifted them around so that they were essentially forming a ‘69’ with the pole between them, cool against their skin. Yuuri’s thighs were clenched, nerves beginning to get to him. Was Chris insinuating that Yuuri wanted to date Vitya? He figured the truth behind that would be obvious because it was in the studio’s rules. Did Chris overhear Viktor asking him to coffee? Because that was Viktor’s idea, not his. What if Chris had seen them at the coffeehouse the other day?

“You know why Yakov wrote that rule, don’t you?” Chris asked as he steadied Yuuri onto his feet again. They kept to their dance, teasing each other and playing at each other with their eyes, heated looks exchanged for quizzical expressions, sexual overtones exchanged with unanswered questions.

Yuuri didn’t want to answer, he didn’t want to _know_ the answer. Because Yuuri wasn’t going to out himself or Vitya. If he did that, one or both of them would be fired and he didn’t want to be responsible for outing the world’s greatest pornstar. Yuuri was nobody, and nobodies should let the somebodies have their time. All of his decisions he had made earlier began to crumble under Chris’s gaze.

“Look, just…” Chris sunk down to the floor as the song began its last chorus, winding to a close. His hips were raised and Yuuri met him soon after, following the last steps of the floorwork he remembered. “Just don’t pull what you pulled at the test recording, alright?”

If Yuuri wasn’t already trading places with Chris, sliding underneath him and spreading his legs, accompanying and accommodating Chris’s body so that he could lean over and grind, he would have fallen then and there. The feeling of Chris’s erection against his own— neither of them could have stopped those reactions and Yuuri hadn’t taken notice until just then— didn’t feel quite as potent or electrifying. If anything, it ruined the mood when the song ended and Chris’s groan halted his movements. Yuuri didn’t ask about the wet spot on Chris’s underwear partly because he knew better and partly because he hoped it wasn’t what he knew it to be.

* * *

Yuuri felt his phone buzzing in his pocket on his and Phichit’s walk home later that evening. Phichit was lost in his own phone, so Yuuri took his out and peered at the name. Seeing _Viktor Nikiforov_ flash on screen caused him to shift his gaze between the phone and Phichit. His heart was pounding, louder than after the workout he just had, as he opened the message log and saw that there were several texts.

_**Viktor:** _  
_Yuuri~_  
_Yuuri? How was your day?_  
_I got to walk Makkachin to the dog park today. We saw a bunch of really cute puppies ^^_  
_[Sent picture]_  
_Oh, you recorded with Chris today, right?_  
_He didn’t hurt you did he?_  
_Or try something weird? He’s a bit adventurous_ _  
Yuuri?_

The texts spanned from the past hour even though Yuuri never responded. The three dots by Viktor’s picture showed that he had begun to type yet another message. The dots disappeared a few times, returning to type out something else. Yuuri blamed the spotty service and texted back.

_**Yuuri:** _  
_Hi Vitya. Chris was fine._ _  
He’s really good at pole. How long has he been doing that, do you know?_

The reply came back after a moment. So soon that it seemed Viktor didn’t do much with his free time, or was simply bored.

_**Viktor:** _ _  
_ _Not sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he grew up with pole dancers for parents_

Yuuri chuckled to himself because, yeah, he could see that, too. But aside from agreement, he didn’t know how to respond.

_**Yuuri:** _  
_Haha_ _  
Yeah_

Phichit whistled. Yuuri looked up to see that Phichit was holding out his hand while they stood on the stoop in front of their apartment building. Yuuri dug into his pockets and produced a key, mumbling an apology. When they were finally inside their apartment, Yuuri collapsed onto their only chair and watched as Phichit thumbed through a takeout menu that was tacked onto their fridge. It was only then that Viktor’s reply came back, slower than the others.

_**Viktor:**   
Um… Yuuri? _ _  
_ _Could you just call me Vitya when we’re filming? You don’t have to say it outside of the studio_

Yuuri frowned. Hadn’t he been doing that? Had he slipped? He looked back through their conversation and found his error.

_**Yuuri:** _ _  
_ _Oh, sorry! I guess it slipped._

Viktor answered immediately. _It’s fine, it’s fine! Not too many people go by two names. I’m sure it’s confusing_

They talked for a little while, the greasy takeout food delivered, eaten, and trashed all in between their silent words. This was the most Yuuri had ever texted, which was a surprising considering who he had as his roommate.

They talked well into the night, about poodles and Japan and old ballet performances they had both seen. Viktor sent several videos from competitions he visited in Russia while Yuuri sent several embarrassing pictures of his old company’s backstage mishaps. He could practically hear the laughter across the cacophony of Detroit outside his window.

It was far into the night when Yuuri finally checked his clock, shocked to see the neon numbers that glowed in the dark.

**_Yuuri:_ **  
_Viktor… it’s late._ _  
I think we should go to bed._

_**Viktor:** _  
_Wow!_  
_I never stay up this late_ _  
I’m sure you’ve kept others up later than this though. ;)_

**_Yuuri:_ ** _  
_ _I don’t think I could last that long, my voice couldn’t handle talking for that long._

**_Viktor:_ ** _  
_ _…_

**_Yuuri:_ **  
_OH_  
_WAIT NO_ _  
NOT LIKE THAT_

**_Viktor:_ **  
_Hahahhahaha_  
_Oh Yuuri~_ _  
I’ll let you get to bed, okay?_

**_Yuuri:_ ** _  
_ _Thanks. You get some sleep too._

**_Viktor:_ **  
_As you wish  
__[Voice recording sent] "Goodnight, my Yuuri"_

Yuuri fell asleep, his phone sliding from his hand and falling to the floor, before he saw the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I know it's been awhile since I updated. This chapter was so hard to right, I hope I've done it justice. I want to apologize for that and also in advance because I will be out of the country without a laptop for two weeks starting today, meaning the next chapter may not be here until sometime early/mid June.
> 
> AFTER THAT I promise updates are going to be more regular. I _will not_ abandon this fic. That being said, I love you all and do come to my [Tumblr](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/) and yell at me? I'll be around intermittently.


	8. J'ai cherché

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Qu'on trouve un paradis perdu en nous" - Amir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mid-June" became "June 1st"
> 
> Isn't that something?

Yuuri spent the majority of his day off wondering how to respond to Viktor’s last text. He stared and stared at the screen, puzzling over whether he should press play again or delete it completely. Already having made a fool of himself in earlier messages, he didn’t want to add more kindling to the fire. And as time moved on, it seemed that a response would have only been more awkward.

Yuuri tapped ‘play.’

“ _Goodnight, my Yuuri_ ,” Viktor’s voice, distorted and tinny through the phone’s small speakers, filled the empty apartment once again with sweet, demure torture. If Chris was the embodiment of sensual sexuality, Viktor was the embodiment of utter euphoria. It sent a weird chill down his spine that he tried so desperately to ignore, but found that he couldn’t. It was too unsettling, a queasy feeling developing in his stomach.

He deleted the message.

Not five minutes later, Phichit returned to an apartment smelling distinctly of fake lemons and rubbing alcohol. Yuuri hadn’t noticed, scrubbing down the counters and wiping down the fridge handles like it was his only job. He was muttering a continuous flow of Japanese under his breath so that Phichit wouldn’t understand his panic.

Not that Phichit would have understood if he was speaking English instead, it was spoken too quickly.

“Yuuri?” Phichit asked slowly. “You, uh… You okay?”

Yuuri stilled, realizing his hands were gripping the disinfectant wipes too tightly. He wanted to get his mind off of things, but apparently cleaning only deepened his worry lines. Perhaps that was why he didn’t like to clean often.

He turned, then, and drew up a small smile. “Hey, Phichit. I just thought the place could use a little cleaning,” he said, hoping he sounded confident.

“A little _light_ cleaning, yes,” Phichit said, “but not a powerwash. I’m surprised you didn’t erode the countertop.”

Yuuri looked down at the disinfectant wipe in his hand: it was torn from where he had wiped too hard. He opened the cabinet below the sink and tossed the wipe in the trash guiltily. “S-Sorry.”

Phichit waved it off. “It’s fine, Yuuri,” he said, walking over to Yuuri’s side and leaning against the counter. “So, what’s going on? Does it have to do with what we talked about yesterday?”

“No,” Yuuri partially lied, pausing, then, “guess I’m just not sure what to do with my days off.”

Phichit furrowed his brows, but didn’t press for further answers. “Well, you could just go to the ballet studio. I’m sure you’d like to be back into a more regular practice schedule. You went the other day, didn’t you?”

Yuuri drummed his fingers on the squeaky-clean countertops, biting his lip in contemplation. He had been going to the studio every day after he graduated in the hopes of being hired by a proper ballet company in Detroit, and even most days after he started working at _Desirious_ , although the workout often left him sore if it was after a long night at the strip club. Once he had been jobless again, though, money had been tight and doing ballet hadn’t been feasible.

But what Phichit was talking about had definitely _not_ been dancing at the studio.

“Ah, yeah,” Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, noticing a second too late that he would now smell like lemon for the rest of the day, “but I have hours booked for later tonight, so I really shouldn’t impose…”

Phichit pursed his lips in thought. Yuuri wouldn’t budge on this; he didn’t like forcing people to make room for him. His friend should know that about him after five whole years of living together. “How about a movie day? I don’t have to go back into SV today so let’s just snuggle into the couch with some hot chocolate—” Yuuri made a face “— _and tea_ , and watch some crappy, sappy stuff. Okay?”

Yuuri’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay.”

The thing about movie days in the Chulanont-Katsuki apartment was that Phichit took things very seriously. The shades had to be drawn so that no sunbeam could cast a glare on their TV, the tea and hot chocolate had to be made _just right_ , on a tray on the coffee table in front of them, a pillow for their feet next to that, and the minimum requirement was three movies. Two good, one awful. Minimal talking for the former, laughter and banter for the latter.

So, after preparations were finished, Phichit and Yuuri were lying against each other under Yuuri’s blanket with Phichit’s laptop streaming _Bambi_ to the bigger TV. By the time the credits were scrolling up, Yuuri had nestled underneath Phichit’s arm with his arm draped lazily over Phichit’s stomach. Phichit was gripping Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri was pretty certain he saw a lone tear escape down Phichit’s cheek.

Phichit insisted it didn’t happen, claiming that the movie was just beautifully made for the time period, that was all.

Yuuri shrugged it off and walked over to their small case of DVDs, parsing through the titles. As he read the back of one, he thought he heard his phone buzz underneath the blanket, but figured it was just some notification and left it alone. He picked a movie that he hadn’t actually seen before and switched the DVDs on the computer. Phichit came back in with new, steaming cups of hot chocolate and tea.

“You didn’t pick another sad movie where an animal dies, did you?” Phichit asked as he set the cups down on the coasters.

“Don’t know,” Yuuri said, “I haven’t seen it.”

Phichit glanced over the screen to check the title card, nodding. “Good choice for guessing, then.”

“Is it good?” Yuuri asked as he heard his phone go off again.

Phichit didn’t seem to have heard it, though. He was busy talking about the film, having gotten started on a long rant from Yuuri’s simple question. It reminded him a little of Viktor. He then wondered if Phichit owned a copy of _The Princess Bride_. He hadn’t seen it in the stacks, but he also knew Phichit had his own personal collection that he took out on his bad days. Phichit didn’t have many of those, so those precious DVDs did not often see the light. He would have to ask after this movie was over.

They settled back into the couch, laying as they were at the end of the previous movie. Their movie days often devolved into lying completely across the couch, although the positions varied. Often they were cuddling uncomfortably but at the same time unwilling to move, too tired by the end of the marathon to care. It was tradition, unspoken but not mistaken for anything else.

During a lull period, Yuuri ducked his eyes under the blanket and checked his phone for the time, since the curtains remained shut. His lockscreen showed 14.43.

It also showed that he had several message from _Viktor Nikiforov_ , causing his heart to skip a beat because he had never even texted back after last night. Why was Viktor so eager to keep a conversation with him? Or, as Yuuri’s anxiety earlier reared its head once again, perhaps he was calling everything off, realizing that he could better spend his time having sex with someone who actually put out on camera.

A series of knocks resounded off their front door, causing both boys to startle. They glanced sidelong at each other, a question in their arched brows.

Neither having an answer, Phichit sighed and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come in!”

Yuuri furrowed his brows further, nudging his friend’s ribs. “‘Come in’? Phichit, we don’t know who’s out there, you can’t just tell anyone to ‘come in.’”

Phichit shrugged. “If they were bad, would they really take the time to knock politely?”

Yuuri was about to quip back with something witty, but the sight of short silver hair and striking ocean eyes walking into his apartment had stolen his tongue.

“Yuuri?” the man asked, looking around with an uncertain expression.

Vitya the Living Legend was in his kitchen.

He was wearing tight jeans (too tight, but Yuuri wasn’t going to complain) and a brown bomber jacket, and he had already been unraveling the scarf from his neck when he paused, eyes finally locating whom he had asked after.

Phichit recovered before Yuuri could. “Oh. Hey, Vitya. How’d you know where to find us?”

Viktor’s hands dropped his scarf ends to smooth them over his torso instead. “Yuuri told me,” he answered slowly. “Did you get my texts?”

Yuuri pulled his phone out from under the blanket and briefly opened his messages. There were a lot.

“S-Sorry, I hadn’t checked. We were, uh, in the middle of…” Yuuri blanched when he realized precisely how the situation must appear to Viktor. Dark room, curtains drawn, Yuuri curled into Phichit’s side with his legs over Phichit’s lap and Phichit’s arm wrapped around for his hand to rest on Yuuri’s waist.

“In the middle of our movie day,” Phichit finished for him, but he was already unraveling from their position, pausing the movie. “Did you guys have a thing today?”

Yuuri looked at the messages then, hoping to answer before Viktor could give away their meetings— that were now secret? Yuuri supposed they were, since getting caught meant very likely getting fired. Not that Phichit would get Yuuri fired, but Yuuri wasn’t worrying about himself. “Uh…”

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Yuuri~ I finished my shoot early today!_  
_Chris couldn’t contain himself today apparently_  
_Oh, it’s actually really nice out!_  
_[Sent picture]_  
_I know we’re meeting later but how about we hang out? I wanted to take Makkachin to the park one more time before the winter got too bad_  
_I’m sure he misses jumping on you! ^^_  
_Yuuri?_  
_Yuuuuurrrriiii. Can I stop by? Please?_  
_… would you be opposed if I just showed up?_   
It was the third floor, wasn’t it?

Panicking, Yuuri drummed his fingers against the back of his phone case. He had to think of something, _anything_ , to explain this.

“Well, did you want to go to the ballet studio early?” Yuuri’s mouth blurted out before his mind could put a stop to it.

Viktor regarded Yuuri carefully, but didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah,” his tongue darted out to lick his lips hastily, “yeah I thought we could. It’s a weekday so they’re usually pretty slow. Guess I’m just eager to practice, you know?”

While Yuuri was trying to parse Viktor’s words, Phichit piped up. “You do ballet too? I thought that stuff you were working on was just for a shoot.”

Viktor smiled, but it was off-center. “Well, they were, but it’s been awhile since I’ve done real ballet. Yuuri’s an excellent teacher, though.”

At that Phichit had the distinct look of confusion, confliction, and disbelief all rolled into one. Instead of asking for clarification, though, he just nodded along. When no one talked for a few long moments, Phichit turned to Yuuri. “So, are you going to head to practice early after all?”

Yuuri shifted in his seat on the couch, eyes averting to every direction except either person currently staring at him. A practice really wouldn’t take the entirety of the afternoon, at least not practice with their lines. Sure, Yuuri had some last minute questions about procedure and stuff, but he could always ask Mila before they shoot. Nothing that would take up an entire afternoon.

But had Viktor already taken Makkachin on a walk? The poodle hadn’t come up with him, although Yuuri supposed that Viktor might have been aware that the building didn’t allow dogs. Perhaps Makkachin was tethered outside. And if he was, maybe just keeping Viktor company while he walked his dog wouldn’t be so bad. He’d done it before. And he _was_ a little homesick for his own poodle.

“Are you sure, Phichit?” Yuuri implored. They _never_ interrupted their movie days. “I can come back early and we can finish—”

Phichit shushed him, waving his hand like their tradition didn’t matter. “It’s fine, Yuuri. Go enjoy yourself. It’s been awhile since you’ve had such a large practice block. You should take advantage of it.”

Yuuri licked his lips nervously, switching between Viktor’s gaze and Phichit’s. It felt _wrong_ , what he was doing. But he wanted this, didn’t he?

Yuuri swallowed. “Alright, I’ll go pack my gym bag. I promise I’ll make it up to you, Phichit.”

“You better, Katsuki,” Phichit smiled easily. “Have fun.”

Yuuri excused himself to his bedroom and packed his bag. Or pretended to, at least. He grabbed his cinch bag and stuffed it with his dancing equipment, knowing fully well that it wouldn’t be taken out of the bag today. When he reappeared, Viktor was still hanging awkwardly by the door with a tinge of pink on his cheeks. It must have been a little hot in there with all of those layers on.

Phichit was still in the same position on the couch, glancing through some sort of social media feed and ignoring Viktor.

“Bye, Phichit!” Yuuri waved as Viktor held the door open for them to leave.

Phichit waved back, a devious smile on his lips while his eyes were kept glued to his screen.

As it turned out, Makkachin was tethered outside, preventing the poodle from actively knocking Yuuri over again. He knelt down to pet the dog and received the multitude of licks that he knew Makkachin was going to give him whether he was kneeling or not. The homesickness returned, but it was lighter, more freeing with every lick to his cheeks, even though the air in mid November was chilly.

Viktor laughed as he untied the leash, mentioning in a false, grumpy tone how he was no longer in Makkachin’s life whenever Yuuri was around. The pout on his face was cute, though, and Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle. Viktor must have taken it as some sort of triumph, because he beamed that heart-shaped smile that Yuuri only ever saw off camera.

They walked on, making small talk for a little while before the park came into view. At the entrance, Viktor unclipped Makkachin’s leash and ordered something in Russian. Makkachin barked excitedly, to which Viktor replied with a firm, curt _no_ in Russian, the word rolling off his tongue so naturally Yuuri was almost shocked that Viktor had ever bothered speaking English. Makkachin bounded away happily, leaving Viktor to sigh in his wake.

“He doesn’t listen to you very well, does he?” Yuuri smirked.

Viktor expelled air out of his nose. “He’s got a mind of his own sometimes, but he won’t do anything drastic,” then, after a moment, “I don’t think.”

And Yuuri wanted to say something witty, wanted to banter playfully, but for some reason his tongue held back. Viktor began walking into the park and Yuuri fell into step beside him, their gaits matching despite their differences in height. It felt so easy, neither walking too fast nor too slow, both glancing to Makkachin for the other and keeping tabs on the dog as he bounded up and down the path with more energy than an excited five-year-old.

Viktor chatted about Makkachin for a while; his dog’s walking habits and his over-eager personality when it came to things he liked (much like his owner). Yuuri reciprocated, recounting his last Skype call with his family where Vicchan had gotten curious about a cord and ended up running around in the background with a long window curtain draped over his head while Mari chased him. If Viktor’s eyes could form into hearts like his mouth could, they would.

There was a slowing of their conversation when they came up to the pond, Makkachin sniffing around the dead reeds that hadn’t been snapped by the recent cold weather yet. They sat on a nearby bench, watching other dogs and their owners, and the occasional snowballs that were lobbed into the air. They dissipated before completing their arcs, the snow on the ground still not quite enough for a proper snowball.

Yuuri noticed Viktor had gone quiet some time ago, but now he saw that there was a thoughtful look in his eyes. Not one to interrupt, Yuuri waited patiently, scratching Makkachin between the ears whenever he came back for intermittent pets.

VIktor sighed at last. “Yuuri, may I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Yuuri blinked and Makkachin bounded away again. “Hm?”

Viktor sucked in a long breath, his shoulders squared. Was… was he nervous? “You and Phichit are rather close. Are you two…?” Viktor let the sentence hang in the air.

And Yuuri let it float for a second too long. “Are we— _oh!_ No, no, no,” he felt his cheeks burning brighter despite the cold, “we’re not like that. Not _dating._ He’s my roommate. B-Besides, we’re technically coworkers now, so we couldn’t date even if we wanted to— which we _don’t._ ”

All throughout, Viktor’s facial expression refused to break. His lips twitched once, twice, undecided as to whether they would curl up or down, before he settled on a laugh at the end of Yuuri’s stammered speech. Yuuri had to wonder why Viktor’s smile this time around looked so odd, like it was penciled onto his face.

“As— I guess you’re right,” Viktor adjusted quickly, but his words didn’t sound right. They didn’t have the same lilt Yuuri was used to hearing in his voice, and the lopsided grin looked worse, looked _wrong_ , the longer that Yuuri stared.

Makkachin barked, and Yuuri watched as Viktor took the opportunity to break away from their accidental staring contest to see what his dog was up to.

A warmer smile returned with a lighter laugh as Viktor called out in Russian to his dog. “Yuuri, Yuuri look!”

Viktor pointed to the edge of the pond where Makkachin was leaning down on his front paws, tail wiggling in the air, muffling soft little _boofs_ to a duck that simply stared back without quacking.

The longer Makkachin didn’t garner any response, the louder his bark became until it broke into a whine. He jumped forward once, then back, trying to fake out the duck that was very clearly not as interested in playing as the poodle was.

Yuuri had to laugh. It was so much like Vicchan with the seagulls back home, a point which he made out loud. Viktor looked back at Yuuri and smiled gently, the nature of his features returning to normal.

Viktor was still gazing into Yuuri’s eyes, but this time it didn’t take nearly as long for him to ask another question. “Do you want to grab some food at that bagel shop on the way back? I don’t really have anything at the house and I wouldn’t want to rob you of a meal _and_ a movie.”

Yuuri checked his phone. It had already been over an hour since they had entered the park. “O-Oh, I didn’t notice it had gotten so late,” he said, and even as he did so, he saw the faint colors of the beginnings of a sunset just peeking over the horizon. “We don’t have to. It’s going to get dark and cold and we shouldn’t stay out for very long. Makkachin would get cold, too.” Yuuri didn’t want to be responsible for anyone getting sick.

Viktor chuckled, standing up and holding out his hand to help Yuuri stand as well. “It’s really not an issue, it’s on our way back. And Makkachin has thick fur. You would know if you were a _real_ poodle lover,” Viktor stuck his tongue out.

Yuuri faked a gasp. “Take. That. _Back_ ,” he warned, no malice in his voice.

Viktor’s eyes glistened. “Or?”

Yuuri pulled the best smoldering look he could, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “ _Or_ , I’m stealing Makkachin. And he would gladly come with me, don’t you think?”

As Yuuri said so, Makkachin heaved his front paws onto Yuuri’s lap and nuzzled his head under Yuuri’s chin happily. Viktor knew he had lost this time.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t pay for Yuuri’s food, anyway.

They walked down the streets in the early evening, the streaks of sunset through the buildings coloring their breaths that billowed into the air. The steam from their food curled around and spiraled upward, with it the smell of freshly baked artisanal bagels. Viktor fretted that Yuuri hadn’t ordered enough food, but Yuuri kept insisting that he had gotten all that he wanted. They ate and talked in between their bites, blushes high on their cheeks (mostly) from the sharp distinction between the warmth of their food and the brisk air surrounding them.

Makkachin, hearing Yuuri’s laugh at one of Viktor’s failed jokes, rubbed with his entire weight against Yuuri’s leg, forcing Yuuri to stumble closer, nearly falling into Viktor’s footpath. Yuuri caught himself, though, and steadied himself with an apology. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor’s arm return to his side, like he had been prepared to catch Yuuri. Fast reflexes, Yuuri thought.

Discarding their wrappers in a bin outside, they walked up to Viktor’s apartment, shedding their winter clothes as they went because the heating was broken in the staircase and way hotter than any indoor room should ever be. Yuuri hoped it wouldn’t be like this inside the apartment. Having to take off any more clothes would just be a hassle.

And a tiny bit problematic.

Thankfully, the heat was working properly and Viktor wasted no time prompting Yuuri with lines, coach mode overtaking his expressions and mannerisms. There was no acting at first, lines being drilled back and forth until Yuuri was practically bored reciting the words. At that point, Viktor prodded Yuuri to act, at which point Yuuri began to flush. Saying these things once they were in front of the camera would be easier; he had done that well in their other shoots. In the private residence of Viktor Nikiforov, however, Yuuri felt that these words were out of place.

Seduction, clearly, was not his forte.

Apparently sensing Yuuri’s discomfort, Viktor had them go into his bathroom and attempt it again, with movement involved. It was stilted at first, Yuuri gripping the side of his arm and rubbing nervously, wondering if he was doing anything right. Viktor hadn’t done what he had done the previous day, which was a relief because Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could have handled seeing Viktor walk up to him half naked again.

Sex was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

Nevertheless, he persisted in the matter. He had gotten this job for a reason and he wasn’t about to get fired two weeks in without having done anything. The slight competitive flame burned inside him. He was a performer, after all.

“I think I should stay,” Viktor purred, “and I think we should have sex.”

Yuuri met him with every inch of tenacity plus some. “Then I guess I should thank you, shouldn’t I?” He leaned in closer with his hand ghosting down Viktor’s ribcage, although barely touching the fabric of his shirt. His foot slid in between Viktor’s feet, knees bumping into each other.

Viktor looked down at their entanglement, then back at Yuuri with hooded eyes, dark and gleaming at the same time. They flitted again to where Yuuri was about to touch him, eyebrow raising suggestively. Then he blinked and his face returned to normal, albeit with a short step back.

“Good,” Viktor whispered low, gravelly, then cleared his throat. “Good. From here it’s pretty self-explanatory, yeah?”

Yuuri nodded, trying to picture how it was supposed to go. It made sense up until… well, up until it didn’t. In any porn he had watched before, scenes skipped around, ignoring the small pieces of real sex that always happened in favor of the shots that counted. He bit his lip, wondering if he should ask.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You okay? Is something bothering you?”

Well, here went nothing. “Uh,” he began wonderfully, “so, about prepping, um, myself. Should I do it before we shoot so that we can get right into it or— well, I don’t know. Um,” Yuuri cast his eyes downward, twiddling his fingers awkwardly and trying to will the dusting of color on his cheeks to go away.

Viktor blinked once, twice. “Oh. Well,” Viktor took a breath, readying his spiel, “you should prep yourself a little bit before we film, but generally we would just continue the shoot with the prep involved, then it’s cut out later in editing. I just have to make sure you’re— you’re open enough so that it doesn’t hurt.”

Yuuri was suddenly uncomfortable. “Y-You’d be prepping me?” He gulped.

Viktor’s brows knit closer together. “Yeah? Isn’t that how sex works?”

Of course it was how sex worked. Yuuri knew that. But he also knew his body, and knew how much it hated not being in control of what happened to it. “I-It is, but… I, um,” Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to finish the sentence, “Idon’tlikebeingfingeredbysomeoneelse.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“You don’t?” Viktor asked, the confusion on his face genuine and extreme. “But that can be one of the best parts! It’s at least one of mine, anyway. When it’s done right, it feels amazing, I promise. I’m sure I could do that for you,” Viktor paused, almost as if biting his tongue, then continued, “if you let me.”

And with just that sentence, Yuuri firmly believed in spontaneous combustion, because his insides were on fire for several reasons at once (because _yes, yes please_ and _oh dear god no_ and _too much_ were just a handful of the swirling thoughts) and he wanted to let the floor disappear underneath him and swallow him whole so he could hide the drastic change in color on his face and chest.

“Uh, well, um,” Yuuri stumbled, his stomach twisting pleasantly one way and devastatingly the other way, “I, uh— I guess, maybe— um… I guess we could work on it?”

If Viktor beamed earlier today, now he was radiating light like the sun itself. “As you wish, Yuuri.”

With that, they wrapped up their practice session and headed back out to the kitchen island. It was only six o’clock, but the sun was long gone as winter began to pick up. The wind rustled the outside, whistling gently the promises of flying scarf tails and bitten cheeks. It was an eerie sound, but being comfortably warm in the apartment abated the feeling. And when Viktor offered Yuuri a glass of water, he took it, glad to have a reason to stay inside just a little bit longer. He sipped slowly.

When Yuuri was about to suggest leaving when he saw a framed photo on the counter, tucked away in the corner. He walked over to it and picked it up, thumb swiping gently over the glass.

It was either of early morning or late sunset, the sun a weak circle on the horizon. A light blue sky glowed a pale yellow, clouds a vibrant pink by contrast. The colors were reflected nearly flawlessly in the canal at the bottom of the picture, nestled in between skinny European streets with tall buildings, boats littered up the far edges of the water. It was gorgeous.

“Where’s this?” Yuuri asked, holding out the picture to Viktor.

Viktor set down his drink he’d gotten out and came closer, leaning in. “It’s St. Petersburg, I used to live just down that road over there,” he pointed to a gap in the buildings where another road must have led.

“Oh, wow,” Yuuri sighed softly. St. Petersburg sounded so far away. It strangely fit, picturing Viktor being in such a place. It suited him. “Did you see any of the St. Petersburg ballets growing up?”

Viktor smiled ruefully. “Yeah. Every bit as beautiful as you’d imagine. I used to do ballet there,” Viktor pointed to another building across the river, “before I moved.”

Yuuri felt a pang of guilt. Maybe they should have actually gone to the ballet studio today. Yuuri thought he had felt the longing in Viktor’s voice when he mentioned being eager for practice earlier. And from their countless conversations, it seemed he loved ballet a lot. On the other hand, he was also a little intimidated, because it was _Russian ballet_ , in _St. Petersburg._ “You must have been really good if you were able to get into ballet in St. Petersburg, huh?”

Viktor’s smile disappeared. Yuuri stood stock still, wondering if he had somehow said something wrong.

“I,” Viktor pursed his lips in his pause, “I was about to leave intermediate before I had to quit.”

That was news. Viktor had never mentioned anything about leaving ballet before. He’d talked plenty about how he had begun, where he went, the songs he used and moves he tried way too early, but never about how he’d gotten from there to here. Was it Yuuri’s place to ask? Curiosity got the better of him before he could think it through.

“Why’d you quit?”

Viktor opened his mouth, shut it. Opened it again, shut it. He turned to completely face Yuuri this time, eyes searching, but not invasively. He licked his lips and bit them before letting a small smile grace his features. “Just money problems. Ballet got too expensive, and St. Petersburg isn’t the cheapest city to live in.”

So Viktor didn’t always live in an expensive, barren penthouse. Duly noted. “Sorry for bringing it up,” Yuuri propped the picture back where he found it, suddenly embarrassed that he might have been too nosy.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Viktor shrugged it off surprisingly easily, “you didn’t know about it, and it’s not like it’s something you can fix. It’s just what happened.”

Then Viktor’s demeanor changed with a smirk. “It’s what eventually led me here, about to film porn with some new up-and-coming actor. I hear he’s got quite the waiting list, and honestly? I’m surprised I made it.”

Yuuri broke out into a grin and eyed the floor, bashful. “I don’t think I know him. What’s his name?”

Viktor put a finger to his lips. “I think he goes by the name Eros, but I’m not sure. He’s _definitely_ only in it for the mind-blowing sex.”

Yuuri frowned. “Well, if that’s what you’re thinking it’s going to be, get ready to be disappointed.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor whined. “You’re supposed to play along!”

“I was,” Yuuri answered with a simple shrug.

Viktor was almost instantly hovering over Yuuri, who had to bend back over the counter and steady himself as Viktor’s hand shot out to brace against the cabinet behind them.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was low, drawn out, “you need to have more confidence in yourself. That’s what these practices are for, right?”

Yuuri didn’t have the heart to tell him that their two practices (of just lines, as far as Yuuri was concerned) wasn’t enough to dissipate the nerves that settled in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, but…”

Viktor touched a finger to Yuuri’s lips. It was the same finger that had touched his own not moments ago, Yuuri noticed. As if the mere fact that _this_ was a thing that was happening wasn’t bad enough. He swore his skin was dyed permanently red by now. The finger swiped off to the side, and his other fingers came together to cup his cheek, but he paused, and his hand fell to his side instead. Yuuri could physically _feel_ the rejection from the movement.

“I’m here to help, Yuuri,” Viktor said quietly, pensive. “All you need to do is ask.”

But Yuuri had already asked for so much from Viktor. Changed scripts, switched roles, even practiced outside of the studio. Yuuri couldn’t possibly ask Viktor to do anything more. Viktor was trying to be nice, but Yuuri couldn’t possibly feel right about taking more. If this shoot worked successfully, Yuuri would be content with continuing. He just needed to know what it was like the first couple times, then he wouldn’t need Viktor’s help at all, and Viktor could go back to filming far more interesting things.

“I will, Viktor,” Yuuri said, “I promise. Just don’t push yourself, okay?”

Viktor’s face relaxed, the forced wrinkles gone. “As you wish,” he breathed out.

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” Viktor said louder as he stood straight and backed away from Yuuri before Yuuri could ask for an explanation. “It’s late and dark and you shouldn’t go alone.”

Yuuri took a moment to collect himself, slowing his breathing and focusing on his heartrate, which had somehow escalated in such a short amount of time. By the time he felt comfortable enough to move, Viktor was already handing him his jacket.

Viktor put his own on after Yuuri had grabbed his, grabbing keys and a leash. “Makkachin will be with us, so we’ll be _extra_ safe.”

Yuuri giggled, a strange noise for him. “If he attacks strangers like he attacks me, I think you have more to worry about with him around.”

Viktor returned the laughter. “Makkachin’s tougher than he looks. We’re in capable hands.”

“Paws,” Yuuri corrected.

Viktor looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes, almost failing. “Paws,” Viktor amended.

It was actually _very_ dark outside. Viktor turned on the flashlight on his phone and held it out for them. Yuuri insisted on holding the light so that Viktor didn’t have his hands full, but Viktor wouldn’t have it. They walked on, barely escaping rogue trashcans and uneven cracks in the sidewalks, and occasionally sidestepping lampposts whose bulbs had burned out, hiding their presence. Viktor never once used his phone for a map to get them back to Yuuri’s apartment, despite only coming by it twice before. Viktor must have a great memory.

The night was quiet, interestingly enough, for a city like this. Yuuri could hear Viktor’s measured breathing, could hear his hand scratching at something in his pocket, his _eyelashes fluttering_ when he blinked. The tiny metallic clink of Makkachin’s leash was an uneven, calming beat.

Nothing compared to looking at Viktor, though. Even under the harsh streetlights of white, orange, and yellow, his skin glowed perfectly. His hair soaked in the colors of the city night, his eyes watching the road, his dog, Yuuri beside him, shining with the fading lights around him, and Yuuri couldn’t look away. He walked tall, but not haughtily, sure and confident but not cocky, and he looked so relaxed walking outside on a winter night. Yuuri wondered if Viktor missed St. Petersburg at all on nights like this.

It was with that thought that he stepped with Viktor off the curb to cross the street, ignoring the way Viktor’s entire body was lighting up brighter than the full moon. It was with that thought that he saw Viktor’s face morph, from soft and thoughtful to panicked and that was strange why would Viktor be looking like that had Yuuri been staring too long because if so he should really stop and look to where he was going—

Yuuri felt the back of his jacket get yanked back, forcing all air from his lungs as he was hurled backward.

There was the sound of a horn and screeching tires.

Then it tapered off into the distance.

Yuuri’s face was pressed against something smooth, leathery. There was a weight on the back of his head, threaded in his hair. His arms were trapped against his chest and another barrier. He wiggled, but the grip that surrounded him only strengthened. Yuuri tried to talk, but it was muffled and squished and barely sounded like English at all.

After a long minute, the grip on Yuuri was loosened. Yuuri fixed his glasses, readjusting them from their new spot on his forehead. He blinked a few times, and looked up.

Viktor was staring at him, eyes filled to the brim with unease and something far deeper that Yuuri couldn’t place. “Yuuri… oh god, Yuuri, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Yuuri had to think for a second about what had transpired. When it came to him, the pieces now fitting together, Yuuri nodded. “I’m fine, Viktor. I-I’m sorry. I should have looked where I was going.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri back into that all-encompassing hug, although not nearly as tightly as before. He hushed Yuuri quietly, threading his fingers into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri shifted, unsure why Viktor was reacting with such intense concern. “No need to be sorry, Yuuri. It’s just— I’m so glad you’re alright, Yuuri.”

Yuuri let Viktor hug him like that for another minute, too awkward to end it and too self-conscious to reciprocate it.

* * *

Viktor emptied his mind as he walked into _SV Studios_ and marched right up to Yakov's door. He was going to be furious at what Viktor was about to do, but there was no way Viktor was going to back down. He had been planning this through all night since Yuuri mentioned it.

Yuuri had looked vulnerable when he said it, too, his eyes squeezed shut like he could have hidden from Viktor in plain sight just by willing it. The tremble in his lips, the quivering in his eyes, made slightly larger by his adorable glasses, gave Viktor a reason to hold off on their sex one more day.

He was looking forward to it, _dying_ to do it, ever since Yuuri promised him all sorts of dirty things his first day here. Things Viktor never heard anyone else offer him, and that meant something. Yuuri’s little knee trick he pulled during practice yesterday was such a teasing reminder of things to come. He was just a tad bitter knowing that he had to remain Vitya for sex with Yuuri.

He thought he had been Viktor with Yuuri once, just the other day, although they hadn't even done anything. Or, at least, they would have if Yuuri's roommate hadn't called just then. But perhaps it was better nothing came of it, because Viktor could still hear the "Vitya" curling around Yuuri's foreign tongue, the sound taking with it his hope that Yuuri had been interested in him.

He was always Vitya when it came to sex. There was never Viktor. It was always his persona, who reveled in pulling apart, in unraveling and ravishing, in driving hard and eliciting moans worthy of an orgasm in their own right. Not that Viktor didn't enjoy it— he was a human with a sex drive. Yuuri just so happened to be the first person to want something else— although whatever it was had been slurred and stained with the pleasantness of champagne. Regardless, Viktor wanted to  make good on Yuuri's promise.

The only thing that held him back, that constantly stopped him from one thing or another with Yuuri, was that he couldn't figure out for the life of him _why Yuuri Katsuki_ was working in a pornography studio. It made no sense, but Yuuri pointedly ignored talking about ballet past his last company two years ago. He never even mentioned the incident, although Viktor presumed he understood why. But he wouldn't talk about it if Yuuri didn't want to. He never wanted to hurt Yuuri.

Yuuri was the first person Viktor wanted to keep by his side. There was no way in any universe that he would ever mean to push Yuuri away. Not after saving him from what could have been a terrible, fatal accident, nonetheless. The car hadn’t turned on their lights and Viktor would have gone to the police about it had he been able to get their license plate, but he had been so swept up in holding Yuuri close that nothing else mattered. The utter, near-paralyzing fear that had gripped Viktor's chest had been heavier than loneliness. He did _not_ want to feel that again. Not that way. Not ever. He would hold onto Yuuri, protect Yuuri, lift Yuuri up, as long as Yuuri would let him.

With that in mind, Viktor opened the door without knocking. Yakov was tapping away at the computer, an old calculator and a notepad with several figures scrawled on it next to the keyboard. He didn't bother to look up.

"What is it, Vitya," Yakov asked, although there was no question in his tone. Great start, Viktor mused.

He wouldn't waste his breath. "Can I grab a fingering script?"

"No," was the immediate answer.

Not such a great start. It seemed he had misjudged Yakov's demeanor. "Why not?"

"You can't keep switching scripts. If you decided that you actually didn't want to film with Katsuki, you would have just called all your appointments back and redone the schedule without telling me," Yakov reasoned accurately. "So you're stalling for some other reason. Either tell me the reason or go prepare for the full recording today."

Viktor could feel the beginnings of dread well up in the bottom of his stomach, but he ignored it with an easy smile. "Yakov, don't you see? A fingering script is perfect with Yuuri on the receiving end. Have you seen his—"

"Vitya," Yakov said sternly, "fans and numbers don't lie. They want Vitya back in full swing. They want the camera focused on you, not some amateur."

Viktor knew as much. He had checked the comments on the recent uploads. But he also knew what some of them said about Yuuri.

"They _like_ Yuuri. They like him with me." That last part was a guess. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to watch Yuuri's shoot with Chris once it was uploaded. If they preferred Yuuri with Chris...

Viktor berated himself. He would _not_ get jealous over Chris. "And they really like his ass," he added at the end for good measure.

" _You_ really like it, you mean," Yakov corrected him. He looked back over to the notepad and thumbed through the first few pages, sighing heavily. "The numbers do indicate he could be a great asset, but Vitya, that's if he _performs_ , and I've yet to see a full, substantial shoot from him."

"Yakov, I promise," Viktor told himself that he wasn't getting desperate. He wasn't about to give away Yuuri's secret. "I promise. Full shoot tomorrow. It'll be the best one yet."

Yakov didn't meet Viktor's eyes as he stood up and searched through some nearby filing cabinets. "It better be, because I'll be overseeing it tomorrow."

What?

Viktor realized a moment too late he had said that out loud.

"You heard me," Yakov shoved a thin script into Viktor's hands, forcing him to grip it to his chest, "I am going to evaluate the shoot. Because if it isn't at least on par with your last shoot with Chris, I'm letting Katsuki go. You know I can't have these rules broken for a reason, Viktor. I see what's happening to you and I'm not about to let it continue if you can't pull your act together."

Viktor bit the inside of his cheek, determined not to talk back at this point because he knew what would happen if he pushed more than he already has. "Understood, Yakov."

Yakov grunted disbelievingly. "That's what I was afraid of."

Viktor left the room without another word, flipping through the script briefly. It was exceedingly simple, and past the main premise pretty much anything said would be ad libbed. Viktor nodded thoughtfully. Yuuri could do this easily, and it would give Viktor time to ease Yuuri into it. It didn't even require a camera crew. Just a camcorder in Vitya's hand.

It was almost as if Yakov had known.

Well, to be fair, Yakov expected him to grab Mila or Georgi or any of the others here to act as a stand-in director for the shoot. Actors weren't allowed to film themselves alone. It was mostly for safety than anything else. But Viktor would be safe. It was Yuuri, after all.

Besides, Viktor wanted to talk to Yuuri about what he thought they were. It was clear Yuuri didn't set distinctive boundaries, considering his apparent closeness with Phichit. But Phichit didn't have a second name to go by and Phichit wasn't the one Yuuri was having sex with for a job. At least not yet, Viktor reminded himself. Yuuri couldn't be "in training" forever. Yakov had already proven that he would make Yuuri film with others when Viktor misbehaved. But that didn't mean that he and Yuuri couldn't be something.

Rules be damned.

Viktor could turn Yuuri’s “coworkers can’t date” comment on its head.

Viktor rewrote the schedule on the board outside, scribbling 303 next to Yuuri's name for that day, crossing out the previously written number to the ground floor filming bathroom. He knew it would be obvious, but that was the point. Yuuri said they could work on it, and what better time than right now? Especially if Yakov was going to judge them tomorrow. Viktor didn't want there to be any added pressure.

Viktor busied himself with rote memorization as he made his way up the flights of stairs and unlocked the recording room. Inside, it was made to look like a bedroom with a twin-sized bed. Viktor sat down and crossed his legs, eyes still roaming over the script.

Yuuri was _definitely_ capable enough for this. He had plenty of practice with this stuff already (and instantly Viktor was thinking about Yuuri’s knees sliding between his the other day, and instantly Viktor feels the blood rush south). Viktor remembered watching Yuuri's solo from the beginning of the week. It had been uploaded quickly because it was a smaller piece, but the quality of the shoot was intense. Mila really knew how to show the best sides of Yuuri, not that there was a _bad_ side to Yuuri.

Yuuri had even used his old favorite toy again. It was a weird warming sensation in his heart that also pooled down into his gut as he watched Yuuri take the whole thing in. Yuuri's face wasn't shown much in that video, sadly, but the view was stunning. And Viktor would see it in person, be able to touch and caress and bring to ruin, soon.

Done with the script, he walked over to a side closet and opened the door. Inside were several pieces of equipment for shoots, and he found what he was looking for relatively quickly. He checked the camcorder's battery and opened the viewfinder. Nodding to himself, he heard steps pounding up the stairs, getting slower the higher they climbed.

Yuuri. His mind buzzed. Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

Viktor's heart was already pounding. They weren't even filming yet, but the anticipation began snaking its way through his veins. So long ago, this feeling had been genuine for every shoot, now it only seemed this intense whenever Yuuri was involved. It was some combination of being a "first" type of shoot, of them being alone for it, and of Viktor's unending desire to look at Yuuri's face. And his ass. Viktor wasn't about to lie to himself.

Especially knowing what he was about to do with it.

The door opened as Viktor was sitting back on the bed. As soon as he saw the first signs of that wonderfully soft black hair, Viktor's smile cracked wide open.

"Yuuri!" Viktor called out happily. "How ar—"

"Viktor!" Uh oh. Yuuri sounded angry. Why did he sound angry? "You changed the script again?!"

Viktor frowned, wondering why Yuuri was reacting like this. Sure, he had said he was nervous about someone else fingering him, but he had said that they could work on it. Wasn't this what he wanted?

"You said we could try," Viktor kept his voice level, his face blank. It wouldn't do to let his emotions cave. Not without hearing what Yuuri had to say.

"I-I did, but—" Yuuri was still standing in the doorway, a copy of the new script in his hand. "But I was talking about during the other scene. You know, the one we're supposed to be filming today?" Yuuri reminded pointedly.

Viktor's throat fell into his stomach.

He... He hadn't thought that Yuuri would have wanted to do that all in one go. Not with people watching. There were always more people around for a full scene, and Viktor wasn't sure that Yuuri realized that.

"I just wanted you to be comfortable with this, Yuuri," Viktor said because he meant it. He meant it with all his heart and if he could project even the tiniest bit of that onto his face then maybe Yuuri would get it, would clue into their agreement to just be themselves.

Viktor wanted to try to be Viktor this time. Hopefully Yakov wouldn't notice, because this time both Viktor and Vitya wanted this and wanted this _bad_. The differences would be so slight as to be practically impossible to distinguish. Viktor was confident in that.

What he wasn't confident about, especially now that Yuuri was throwing it back in his face, was about whether Yuuri wanted Viktor to be Viktor when filming. He wanted Viktor to be himself, but Viktor had no idea what that meant when it came to filming. From what it seemed like, from Yuuri's constant slip of the tongue, Yuuri wanted Viktor to be Vitya.

Just like everybody else.

But then Yuuri would turn around and _care_ , and it did things to Viktor. The way Yuuri's eyes would droop and his voice would soften as he asked Viktor to not push himself hard, to take care of himself, it was all so unfair. Viktor wanted to care for Yuuri, too.

It was the least he could do for the one who made him feel alive and free after so long.

Yuuri looked at him for a moment, shifting his weight back and forth, weighing something on his mind. He muttered such a small, mousy "thank you" that Viktor had to lean in not to miss it.

Viktor patted the space on the bed beside him. "Do you want a practice run?" He winked the wink that always seemed to get him out of trouble with anyone that wasn't Yakov or Yurio.

* * *

Vitya ran a hand through his hair, piecing it into place, even though it wouldn't be seen by anyone but Yuuri— Eros. Eros would see him.

But not yet. Vitya wasn't supposed to know that yet. Vitya was returning home from the store, vlogging his trip, and coming back to check on his roommate. His roommate, Eros, should be home and perhaps they could hang out, play video games or something. Didn't really matter, Vitya supposed.

He turned the camera back on. "Hey guys. Just went to the store," he held up a plastic bag, shaking it, "got some stuff to make good food tonight. I think it'll taste fine. I'm a good cook, guys! I swear. Whatever Eros tells you is wrong. I cook amazingly."

Vitya grabbed the keys from his pocket and played around with the lock. "Anyway, I'll show you guys the layout of the place," Vitya opened the door slowly, "then you get to see me c— E-Eros!"

The door was opened to directly view the small bed in their small apartment. Outside the shot, the plastic bag fell to the ground, several things rattling as they rolled away. Within the shot, Vitya's roommate was bent over the side of the bed, legs parted wide. His ass was in the air, and a hot pink butt plug was in his hand approaching his entrance. But even from this distance, Vitya could tell that Eros hadn't used any lube.

Said man spun around, his deep brown eyes wide and his slicked back hair mussed. Stark naked, Vitya could appreciate the muscles of his abdomen. That, paired with the view of his ass, had Vitya stunned in place.

"V-Vitya!" His roommate exclaimed. "Put the camera down! What— I thought you weren't coming home for another hour!" His cheeks were flushed now, splotchy and uneven but intensifying the longer Vitya held the camera at him.

"And I thought you were straight!" Vitya said from behind the camera.

"I-I... I got a new boyfriend a couple weeks ago," Eros admitted guiltily, still hiding the plug behind his back. "He wants to take it further, but I read that you can't just put it in. There's a lot of... prep work or something. And I know what butt plugs are, so I thought I could just... y'know..." Eros gestured vaguely.

"Just stick it in there?" Vitya supplied for him. He couldn't believe this. Of all the things Vitya learned in the span of a couple seconds, the three most prominent things were these:

1) Eros was not straight, not completely.

2) Eros was an anal virgin.

And 3)

"Eros," Vitya began slowly, "do you know how to prepare yourself?"

"Prepare for what?" He asked innocently, the ghost of a smirk attempting to grace his lips.

3) Eros was playing with him.

"You know," Vitya walked closer, keeping the camera on Eros's demure features, on his seductive eyes that could only see Vitya, "you're really supposed to use lube with that."

"Oh?" Eros quirked an eyebrow. "That's all I was missing?"

Vitya chuckled. "No, there's more. You can't just shove that whole thing up there. You gotta work your way up."

"With what?" Eros asked, clueless.

"Well," Vitya tried to sound awkward, because this was his roommate he was talking to and this was not a normal conversation between roommates, "with your fingers."

Eros gasped loudly and over-exaggeratedly, placing his hand over his gaping mouth. "My _fingers_???"

* * *

Viktor dropped his hand holding the camera, letting it swing loose. He muttered some expletive and Yuuri's name before his chest burst with laughter. Yuuri followed suit.

"Too much?" Yuuri wiped a stray tear from his eye, his smile adorable wide and trembling as an after effect of his giggles.

Viktor's heart swelled, the laughter having subsided. "A little bit," he shook his head, "but overdoing it is better than nothing. Are you going to do this with every bad line?"

Yuuri threw his hands up in defeat. "They're all bad lines! It's just a little bit of fun."

Viktor agreed with that sentiment. Yuuri had been full of wonderful surprises that left Viktor's chest bubbly ever since he walked in here two weeks ago.

As much as Viktor wanted more, though, they had to film this within the hour.

* * *

"W-With my fingers?" Eros repeated nervously. "That sounds difficult. I can't even see what I'm doing back there as it is. What... What would you suggest, Vitya?" He tried to keep his look on the innocent side of flirty, but the line was almost too suggestive to say it any other way.

And Vitya bought it. Would continue to buy it long after it had outlived its use (which was only for today).

(But Viktor would make today the best he could. He would make Yuuri believe that he was worth it, that Viktor truly wanted the best experience for him.)

Vitya hummed in contemplation, trying to drown out his own thoughts. "I... Could help you, Eros. Teach you how to come undone," his voice lowered to a whisper as his hand came into view of the camera and caressed Eros's neck, brushing his fingers along his jaw and down across his bare collarbone.

"Would you like that, Eros?" Vitya asked, panning the camera back up to Eros's face before he revealed too much. He could already see Eros's arousal manifesting, but it simply wouldn't do to show it to the camera just yet. "If I prepped you for him? Got you used to having something big inside you?"

Yuuri’s red cheeks were impossible to hide now, his expression clearly mirroring his response down below. "Y-Yes, Vitya."

Viktor paused. He wanted to tease, to bring Eros back out. "Say it."

Eros halted, having already taken a step toward the bed. But before he could be taken completely by surprise, he smirked, his eyes darkening. "Finger me, Vitya,” he commanded, drawing his bare body up against Vitya. “Make me come undone. Un _touched_."

Vitya felt the fire in his gut burn hotter. Which was fair, he had gone off script and so had Yuuri. Eros. _Eros_.

Vitya didn't move, so Eros pulled on his arm, bringing them back to the bed. He stood facing Vitya, simple and naked and flushed and _beautiful_. Eros cleared his throat softly and Vitya watched his Adam's apple bob, alluring without even trying. "Well? What do I do first, Vitya?"

Vitya blinked hard, raising his focus. "Get on all fours, feet hanging off the bed," he instructed.

Eros shifted onto the bed, posture awkward as he tried to hide this tremendous view from Vitya and the camera. He turned his head so that Vitya could see his clear hesitation. "Like this?"

Vitya's hand automatically went to the top of Eros's lower back, pressing firmly. Eros's back caved easily under the touch, arching and heightening his back end. Vitya smoothed his hand up Eros's spine, the camera panning with his movements. Eros’s body responded in kind, lowering fluidly with Vitya’s touch until Vitya had his hand at the back of Eros’s neck, pressed into the mattress lightly.

Vitya had to take a moment to collect himself, because _fuck_ , the pliant skin beneath his fingertips shifted with every breath and he just wanted to lean over and lose himself, whether to sexual pleasure or just to the moment in itself. But he couldn’t. He forced the camera to stay in his hand out in front of him.

“Just like this,” Vitya breathed out, trailing his hand back down Eros’s spine. It was then that he allowed himself (and the camera by extension) to take in the glorious view that was Eros baring himself for Vitya, his curves toned and round and ethereal.

Vitya’s hand cherished it, tapping it lightly before he realized what he was doing. “Such a great ass,” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure if that had been Vitya or Viktor.

Definitely both.

Vitya cleared his throat. He wouldn’t lose focus _now_ , of all times. What kind of pornstar would he be if he fucked this up now? “Now, Eros,” Vitya said, “lube is the single most important part of the process. Without it, this would be painful. Aren’t you glad I stopped you before something terrible happened?”

Eros made a noncommittal noise. Viktor paused, wondering if Yuuri was okay. He slapped his ass lightly, watching the skin ripple and afterward  hearing Eros muffle something into a nearby pillow. Okay, Yuuri was fine.

“It’s okay,” Vitya cooed, “it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel good. Now,” he took his fore finger and ran it down in between Eros’s cheeks, watching his hole clench already, “I just want you to get used to the feeling of something back there, okay? I’ll get the lube in a second.”

Vitya rubbed the pad of his finger up, down, around the hole, until Eros relaxed. It took a minute, listening to Eros’s noises of discontentment morph into something akin to… less discontentment. It was a start.

Vitya leaned over to open the bedside table drawer without leaving his spot behind Eros. A few seconds later he produced the bottle of lube and showed it to Eros. “See? This is what I’ll be using. It starts off a little cold, so I’m just going to do the same thing I was doing a second ago, with lube, okay? Warm it up against you.”

Eros turned his face away from the bottle. Vitya imagined the most beautiful sunset of colors appearing on Eros’s cheeks since the camera couldn’t see it.

Vitya did as he said he would, pouring a good amount of lube— way more than he actually needed, but he fretted it still might not be enough— onto his fingers, rubbing and warming it before touching Eros again. His hole clenched tighter than the first time, but it relaxed much faster than before. The circling of Vitya’s finger over the hole slowed, resting perfectly over the entrance.

“Okay, Eros,” Vitya warned, “I’m going to push in now. It may feel a little strange— that’s okay, that’s perfectly normal.”

Vitya added a bit of pressure, staring with wide eyes as he watched the first bit of his finger sink into Eros. It tightened immediately, but Vitya persisted until his finger was halfway in. Hearing Eros groan, he pulled out just as slowly.

“Talk to me, Eros,” Vitya encouraged, “talk to me. Was that okay? It was pretty tight, I’m not going to lie. It’s going to take some work to loosen you up.”

Eros didn’t move for a moment, and Viktor worried he had messed things up early. But then Eros wiggled his hips, muttering something too low to hear.

“What was that, Eros?” Vitya had his finger at the entrance again, ready.

“M-More,” Eros whined, “slow, b-but… more. Please.” He still didn’t turn his head.

Vitya nodded before he realized Eros wouldn’t see it. “Yeah, is that what you want? You want my finger inside you?”

Eros didn’t answer again.

Vitya responded to the silence by pushing his finger until it was all the way in, torturously slow. A surprised gasp followed by a long, barely-audible groan was accompanied by the tightening of muscle. Vitya had to bite his lip at the feeling.

Yuuri must _really_ not like other people doing this.

“God,” Viktor sighed, “you’re so tight, Eros. And you tried to put that toy inside you?”

“Vitya,” Eros’s own sigh was strained, “Vitya, it hurts.”

Viktor almost pulled out instantly and apologized, willing to call off the shoot. But Vitya? He angled the camera out so that it captured him leaned over Eros to press open-mouthed kisses to his spine. He kept his finger inside until he felt Eros relax a little more, although Eros was starting to whimper.

“Does that feel better, Eros?” Vitya asked. “Can I move?”

Eros nodded, still not looking back.

Vitya pulled his finger out and back in, out and in, at practically a snail’s pace. Slower than a snail, even. It took a minute or so, but finally Eros’s hole was cooperating nicely. Vitya attuned his sense of touch to feel around inside of Eros, fingering the walls and stroking them gently. Nothing to add in terms of pleasure, but just a bit of pressure to get the muscle to give.

A soft breath escaped Eros’s lips. “More,” he repeated.

Vitya took his finger out and coated it and his middle finger with yet more lube. He had to bite his tongue before a phrase passed through his lips that would effectively ruin the shoot. He brought both fingers back to Eros’s hole and pressed in, meeting resistance almost instantly. Eros became more vocal, the edge of his voice strained and his back muscles contracting.

Vitya’s first knuckles got to the ring of muscle and stopped. “Eros? This is two fingers, okay? Barely two. That new boyfriend’s dick? Any dick? Bigger than this.”

“Bigger…?” Eros repeated it as a question. “H-How much bigger?”

Vitya smirked. “About three fingers. Think you can handle three? It’s only one more than what you’re about to take.”

Eros nodded, pushing his hips back toward Vitya, forcing his fingers to sink just a little deeper. He choked back a pained gasp, stuttering in his reaction.

“Easy there, Eros,” Vitya lowered his voice, “I promised to take you apart nice and slow, didn’t I?”

Eros didn’t have a chance to respond, because Vitya was already inching his two fingers deeper into him. It was _so tight_ , so _incredibly tight_ , and Vitya wanted nothing but to quicken his pace, to ready Eros for his own cock. He glanced down and saw his own erection bulging in his sweats, hiding nothing from the imagination. He wasn’t sure when he had gotten so hard, but he definitely knew the reason why.

He had to hold himself back.

A few minutes of in and out, tiny bit by increasingly tiny bit, resulted in Vitya’s two fingers seated fully inside of Eros, the pulsating heat intoxicating. Eros was reduced to jelly, his thighs quivering with the effort to continue supporting his body. Vitya would have loved to turn Eros over, to continue working his fingers inside of him, holding his thigh up with his other hand, while watching Eros’s face approach bliss, but he knew he couldn’t do that. This would be the easiest position if they wanted to prep him properly. And Vitya wanted to prep him properly.

He rotated his fingers slowly, so that he was essentially forming a finger gun with his right hand, the two fingers inside Eros now more vertical than horizontal.

The thought, once it entered Vitya’s head, wouldn’t leave.

“Bang, bang,” the words left Vitya’s mouth before he could control them, his thumb pressing down on the invisible flintlock of his finger gun. But instead of being mortified, he was struggling, biting his lips in the effort not to laugh.

Eros turned his head slowly, eyes meeting Vitya’s.

A few seconds passed, the stare didn’t lessen.

They burst out laughing.

* * *

“ _Really_ , Viktor?” Yuuri chided. He looked like he was going to attempt to turn around but thought better of it considering their position. Viktor felt him clench, the mood suddenly lessened despite the fact that his fingers were still inside him.

And it felt _wonderful_ , it really did. Viktor was sure if there was a mirror in the room he would see nothing but bright pink covering his nose, cheeks, and chest. Yuuri’s body, inside and out, was a dream greater than anything he could imagine. And this was just with his fingers.

“What was that?” Yuuri asked when Viktor didn’t answer.

Viktor’s lips curled upward, already tasting the words that were going to leave his mouth, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m _fingerbanging_ you,” Viktor emphasized before he devolved into laughter again.

But Yuuri wasn’t laughing along, or, at the very least, he wanted to but was holding himself back purely out of spite. “That was awful,” Yuuri said, “pull out.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor whined but acquiesced anyway, pulling out carefully. “Yuuri, c’mon! It was _funny_.”

“Puns are not funny, Viktor,” Yuuri said, but Viktor could tell that Yuuri didn’t believe his own words, because Yuuri looked _so close_ to laughing again and Viktor wanted to hear it _so badly_.

Viktor held up his two fingers to Yuuri, slicked and shiny with used lube, in the form of a gun. “Bang,” Viktor shot again and winked.

Yuuri’s face scrunched up, and he began to shake his head from side to side. Viktor could see it in his brown eyes; the dawning realization, the struggle to hold onto a shred of dignity, the loss of control.

Yuuri laughed.

And it was the most amazing sound Viktor had ever heard. It was light, floating into the air and filling the room. It was genuine, a beautiful amalgamation of buildup and release and sweet and sexy. If it hadn’t happened already, Viktor would have fallen. Would gladly fall again. He joined Yuuri in his laughter, although he didn’t think his would ever sound nearly as perfect as Yuuri’s. Even after it ended and the room fell silent again, Viktor replayed it in his mind while they prepared to finish the shoot.

* * *

It took ten minutes before Eros was okay with moving on to the next finger, at one point having to switch back to one finger, and another ten to convince him to be more vocal. After that...

“Vitya,” Eros moaned out as three fingers pushed all the way in. “Oh fuck, Vitya. That— that’s tight.”

Vitya kept his movement consistent. In and out, in and out, he relished how the rim sucked them in and pushed them out. “Does it hurt?”

Eros began to shake his head, then changed his mind and nodded.

Vitya slowed down. “How’s that?”

Eros whimpered, readjusting his legs. It did nothing to aide the passage of Viktor’s fingers, but it did shift their position, and it apparently did something right because his whimper changed into a soft, heavy sigh. Eros didn’t answer the question. He didn’t have to.

“Eros,” Vitya started, “how’s it feel? My fingers inside of you? I want to know. C’mon, turn your head towards me. Towards the camera. Lemme see your pretty face.”

Eros complied, his face now sweaty after straddling the line between pain and pleasure for twenty minutes straight. Vitya was honestly amazed. He hadn’t stroked the important place yet, sure, but Yuuri looked simultaneously wrecked and ready. Pieces of his hair fell down to frame his face, his lips were parted and his breaths came out in small pants. The blush on his cheeks was the color of sin itself.

“There you go,” Vitya zoomed in the camera, “look at me. Tell me how it feels. Am I doing a good job?”

Eros licked his lips and nodded, faced smushed against the mattress. “Am I doing a good job? Taking your fingers?”

“Oh, Eros,” Vitya jerked his fingers hard, accentuating Eros’s name. Eros cried out. “Eros, you’re doing so well. Fuck, you’re taking them so well. I think you’re ready. Do you?”

Eros shook his head, furrowing his brows. “H-Harder.”

Vitya hesitated, but only for the briefest of moments. Recovering, he fingered Eros a little faster, pressing a little harder between his cheeks. He pushed in again and again, the very edge of his knuckles close to stretching Eros’s rim just a tiny bit more. The noises Eros made told Vitya he was doing exactly the right thing. The squelching sound of lube and skin against skin filled the air, easily being picked up by the camera’s mic. But Vitya kept going because he promised to make Eros come undone.

Vitya stilled his hands, and a string of protests tumbled from Eros’s lips. He waited until Eros fell silent again, then he twisted and curled his fingers, aiming for the spot. He missed, but judging by Eros’s rather loud moan, it was a good miss. A nice stretch of his walls that began to ache for something bigger.

Not yet. Not until he hit it—

Eros made some combination of noise that was akin to a groan, a pant, a cry, and _Vitya_.

There it was.

Vitya rubbed relentlessly, watching Eros wriggle beneath him, split open on Vitya’s fingers and Vitya’s fingers alone, already a shivering, quivering, _throbbing_ mess. It made Vitya’s ignored erection downright painful.

Vitya wanted to finish him then and there, but the toy was peering out of the corner of his hazed vision. He pulled his fingers out regretfully, sad that the toy would be what finished Eros, what Eros’s hole would greedily clench around as he came untouched just like he asked for. Vitya cleared his throat in an attempt to clear away his disappointment and moved to grab it when something hot circled his wrist.

Head whipping around faster than he thought it could, Vitya was greeted with the sight of Eros’s hand locked around his wrist. He followed the arm, it’s muscles corded, up until he saw Eros’s face. There was a deep, sultry fire in his irises, his eyebrows and mouth set in such a way as to say that, despite the position he was in, _he was in charge_ and _he would take what he wanted_.

“Finish me with your fingers or I will fuck myself on them for you.”

Vitya, _Viktor_ , was only too happy to comply, his heartbeat racing and his erection pounding, both hidden by obtrusive clothing.

And comply he did, for the first few thrusts back inside Eros’s heat. On the last thrust Vitya had hit Eros’s prostate dead-on and Eros bucked, his thighs squeezing together and his leg muscles spasming.

Then something pressed into his erection. It wasn’t forceful or intentional. It just _was_ and Vitya hissed, both relieved and needing more. He looked down to find Eros’s bare foot pressed up against the outline of his cock. Vitya’s breath came out shaky as Eros kneaded the head with his heel through the fabric.

“Fuck,” Viktor cried softly, “fuck, Eros. That—”

“Take your pants off, Vitya,” that same extraordinarily sexy voice demanded.

It was a little difficult with one hand, so Vitya pulled out and freed his erection, his shirt still on. He set the camera to the side, perched on a pillow pointed at them. Eros’s foot instantly returned, and the heat of his skin that came with it practically burned with how ignored Vitya’s cock had been the entire shoot up until now. He fell forward, his arms bracing him above Eros, powerless to the indescribable touches, and his head hung low, bangs sweeping over Eros’s back.

Then Vitya’s balance was thrown off as one of Eros’s hands grabbed his again, forcing Vitya’s fingers into a particular position before guiding them back into Eros’s now eager hole. Vitya gasped, powerless as Eros moved Vitya’s hand for him, fucking himself on Vitya’s fingers like he said he would if Vitya didn’t keep up.

With the increasing pressure on his cock and the sight playing out before him, Vitya wasn’t sure he _could_ keep up.

“Vitya,” Eros scowled, “Vitya, I need more. Talk to me. Talk to me, please. I _need_ this.”

Vitya needed it too.

“Eros,” Vitya whispered reverently, “Eros, you look so amazing, using me like this. Your—” he gazed down at where his fingers were being shoved and he could feel the pooling warmth in his gut shoot skyward, closer and closer to the edge— “your hole, Eros. Your hole looks so fucked. It’s so open and willing and I bet you wish you could see it. You could take my whole cock in one go right now.”

Vitya almost, sort of, _kind of_ hoped that Eros would agree and they would have wild sex right then and there.

But Eros just moaned instead, so wantonly and sinfully and lewdly that Viktor had to squeeze his eyes shut. It didn’t help much, but it was just enough. It had to be.

“Vitya,” Eros cried weakly, “Vitya, please, rub me there. Make me come, Vitya. Vitya. Vitya,” Eros repeated like a mantra as his foot pressed even harder, shifting up and down just enough to get rid of all of Vitya’s self control.

Vitya took Eros’s hand off of his and obeyed relentlessly, pounding hard and rubbing that one spot. He relished the change in Eros’s moans. They became shorter, higher in pitch, and his hole began to tighten. He was impossibly close.

Vitya grabbed the camera again and leaned forward so that his lips tickled the shell of Eros’s ear. “Come for me, baby.”

And with that, Eros’s moan was cut short, hanging in the air as his entire body froze, locked in place. Vitya heard more than saw the ropes of come land on the blanket underneath them. The vibrations of Eros’s pleasure reached down through his feet and straight to Vitya’s cock. Vitya quickly pushed Eros’s foot aside and pumped himself a few times before ultimately finishing all over Eros’s ass, decorating it in a way that might actually keep Viktor hard for days.

* * *

When his vision stopped being blurry, Viktor collapsed beside Yuuri, chest heaving with the exhaustion of it all. Yuuri’s hips slumped back down to the bed, the friction obviously causing Yuuri overstimulation as he groaned half in pleasure and half in pain.

They faced each other, and Viktor wanted to reach out and touch Yuuri’s sweat-soaked, glowing skin. But he still had the camera in his hand, and knew he had to finish what he started.

“You think you’re ready?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri let out a long breath like he’d been holding it in the whole time, smiling lazily at him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough, “yeah, I think I am.”

Viktor smiled back, the reality settling back into his bones and conflicting with the overwhelming happiness in his heart that resulted from being able to do this one thing for Yuuri correctly. Because Yuuri was looking at him like there was nothing else in the world, not even this room they were in. And when Yuuri closed his eyes, Viktor knew it was because Yuuri trusted Viktor to look out for and protect him. It was another hour of laying there in messy silence, Viktor watching over a sleeping Yuuri, that he realized something.

Viktor couldn’t let this happen again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... hey guys. 
> 
> Guess what the next chapter is? ;)


	9. Brave Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finally has a taste for what filming in the porn industry is really like. Can he handle it?

Yuuri blinked awake, the slow burning of consciousness and his muscles straining to cooperate again the only thing he could focus on. There was a dull ache in his backside as he twisted his body around to lie on his back. The ceiling looked blurry and there was a heavy weight on his chest, despite the fact that he was sure he hadn’t been wearing clothes— 

Bolting upright, Yuuri winced at the immediate throb of pain and groaned. He had been filming with Vitya before he fell asleep. But falling asleep wasn’t something a pornstar did, _especially_ not when they were still on set. 

Yuuri looked down to see that a blanket had been draped over his body. Initially worried about making a mess of the blanket with his or Vitya’s release, Yuuri tore it off, exposing himself to the empty room. Upon looking over his body, it became apparent that there was nothing to worry about. In fact, Yuuri’s skin felt smooth and supple and— _pure_. Like he _hadn’t_ just fucked himself on Vitya’s fingers and rubbed Vitya’s cock with his foot until they came like horny teenagers fulfilling a fantasy come true. 

Well, when he was a teenager he hadn’t imagined Vitya having a foot fetish, but close enough. It had been an accident, so perhaps they had just gotten caught up in the moment. Hopefully it made for a great shot.

On the other hand, Yuuri had been surprised by many things during that shoot. Expectations of the usual sting, the clench against something not wholly undesired, and the burn associated with initial mistrust were met, sure, but they subsided the more that Vitya had talked to him. Part of Yuuri knew that those were just words from the script, but the way that Vitya said them almost felt true. Even the kisses to his spine, the sweep of his hair over his skin, eased him and had felt almost intimate. If that wasn’t a hint, Yuuri _definitely_ started to feel better once Vitya brushed his fingers against the spot his other lovers had never had the skill (or will, for that matter) to reach before.

It might have also helped that he took charge toward the end. Even if they weren’t his own fingers, moving them himself was enough of a control trip. He wondered if it looked okay on camera or if he had gone too far.

Needless to say, that was the first time he had ever come untouched. He hadn’t actually thought that it would be possible, but apparently all it took was a pornstar to change that.

An incredibly ridiculous, _punny_ pornstar. Yuuri shook his head at the memory, taking stock of his surroundings with what poor eyesight he had.

He saw what appeared to be his blue glasses on the nightstand and leaned over to grab them. As he did, his hand landed on a slip of paper that lay on the bed, crinkling it under his weight. Putting on and adjusting his glasses, he noticed there was also a plate of crackers and a glass of water on the nightstand. He held the note up and flattened it out to the best of his ability.

_Yuuri,_   
_I had to take care of Makkachin and go to my next film. I cleaned and covered you, but no one should be in that recording room for the rest of the day, so you don’t have to rush. Text me when you can so that I know you’re okay! And if you have any questions about tomorrow. ;)_   
_~Viktor_

Yuuri couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. After getting dressed and returning the room to a slightly-less-fucked-on state, he ate the few crackers and drank the water, knowing he would need to find something a bit more substantial. He folded the note and tucked it into his pocket, never checking the scribbles that were on the backside of the paper from a different pen.

Walking out of the recording room with whatever belongings he brought felt awkward, like he should be participating in some grand walk of shame that anybody would recognize if they saw him. But he checked; he was wearing his own clothes and the mirror reflected only mildly-mussed hair after he had splashed some water in it to calm the inevitable flyaways.

There shouldn’t be any shame in what they did, he reminded himself. It was a job.

Why, then, did it feel so dirty to the point that Yuuri felt he had to sneak out?

By some stroke of luck, he hadn’t seen anyone in the stairwell, nor on the ground floor as he went to the schedule bulletin and marked his time next to his name where Viktor had scribbled the changes. There hadn’t even been anyone at the front desk, which caught Yuuri’s attention. Even in his silence, Yurio’s presence had always been felt. Now that the front room, with its polished marble and fancy facade, was empty, it felt even more impersonal.

“Yurio’s almost never here in the late afternoons,” a voice said as the door behind Yuuri opened.

Turning, Yuuri was greeted by the sight of his roommate. Phichit had a gym bag slung over his shoulder and an easy smile on his lips. “Do you know where he goes?”

Phichit shrugged. “I just know he leaves and Yakov doesn’t stop him. I tried to one time because I happened to be leaving at the same time and Vitya pulled me back.”

“Viktor knows where Yurio goes?” Yuuri asked.

“I guess so,” Phichit said, “maybe he takes some sort of classes. The kid doesn’t seem to go to public school at all since he’s always at the front desk. Hopefully Yakov pays the kid.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Yakov doesn’t strike me as a stingy employer.”

“You haven’t gotten a paycheck from here yet, have you?” Phichit asked.

“Friday,” Yuuri said, pausing, “are they that bad?”

His friend laughed, holding open the front door for Yuuri. “Quite the opposite. Like I said, it’s a job that’ll pay. How do you think I paid rent for both of us these past few months? Oh,” Phichit turned to walk backwards as they made their way down the street so that he could face Yuuri, “have you contacted our landlord yet? He wants an answer about the lease.”

Yuuri’s eyes met the ground, looking with interest at the passing pores in the pavement and the scuff marks on his left, right, left shoe as he walked on. He bit his lip, wondering if he even had an answer for himself yet. He missed home, but he had no job waiting for him there. Right now, it was safer to stay here. But the more videos he put out there, the more likely it would be that any employer in the future would recognize him in a search. Not that Eros would ever be a popular name in the pornography world.

Filming with Vitya might change that, but Yuuri knew the cameras loved him more, knew that Vitya was the real star. And while Yuuri knew his competitiveness would surely kick in here and there, he also knew he couldn’t measure up to Vitya. As much as he wanted to, perhaps it was better that he didn’t.

But that didn’t really have anything to do with where Yuuri lived. His thoughts were already avoiding an answer for him.

“I’ll call him tomorrow after the shoot,” Yuuri answered finally.

Phichit stopped dead in his tracks, causing them to very nearly collide into each other. He had a hard, dark glare in his eye. “You two didn’t do the shoot today, did you? He delayed it again,” Phichit didn’t speak as if that were a question.

Yuuri side-stepped Phichit and walked on without a word, only to be stopped by him once again. Phichit didn’t ask twice, he didn’t need to, because the look he gave Yuuri was all that was needed. “No, we didn’t, and yes, he changed it again. I didn’t ask him to, but he did.”

“He changed it without asking?” Phichit raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to have sex with me,” Yuuri guessed, already tasting the trace of a lie on his tongue. Viktor had taken Yuuri’s confession literally and gone out of his way to make Yuuri comfortable. Surely that wasn’t about—

Suddenly, Yuuri wasn’t sure if Yakov had been aware of the change. Would they get in trouble again? Would Vitya take the fall? He worried at his lip.

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s voice caused him to lift his head, “I can hear the gears turning in your head. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Didn’t I tell you to give him a chance?”

Yuuri felt bristles at the back of his neck. Phichit wasn’t a perfect, law-abiding person, but why was he asking Yuuri to so blatantly disregard one of Yakov’s central rules? No relationships. And Viktor was only doing what he was doing for the job, not that Phichit knew about half of that.

If Yuuri pursued the beautiful perfection that was Viktor Nikiforov, he would only end up hurting physically, emotionally, and financially. It was complete, utter stupidity.

“I want to focus on actually doing my job right now, Phichit,” Yuuri reminded him, “I’ve been here _two weeks_ now and I still haven’t even put out. I’m surprised I haven’t been fired already.”

Phichit fell back into step beside him as they strode over a crosswalk. “ _I’m_ even surprised by that,” he responded honestly, flowing with the change in conversation. “What did you guys even film today?”

The red that blossomed onto Yuuri’s face must have told Phichit all he needed to know. “Uh, we. Well. Um, prep work?”

Phichit eyed Yuuri from the side, his lips pursed, but he didn’t press further on the issue, a fact for which Yuuri was glad. He wasn’t sure if he could tell anyone that he let Vitya the Living Legend fingerfuck him until he came untouched. Hell, he had a hard time even _thinking_ that sentence without feeling his face heat up.

Thankfully, Phichit didn’t talk about it the rest of the night.

Or maybe that was a bad thing, because the anxiety festered just underneath Yuuri’s skin, crawling and seething and writhing. If he couldn’t get comfortable during their shoot, the sex wouldn’t happen at all. There was just no way. There would be no film and he would get fired for sure.

If he asked to change the script, he would get fired. Or Vitya would be forced to take the blame. Yuuri could always take the fall at that point; count it against him as his first strike. Then he could have the weekend to psych himself up for a full shoot on Monday instead. But this shoot had already been delayed so long. Yuuri felt Yakov wouldn’t take to that decision too well.

Yuuri could just go through with the shoot. He could think for a few seconds that everything would be fine. Viktor would be there and even under the guise of Vitya, he would take care of Yuuri. But Yuuri didn’t want Viktor to shoulder all of the work. Every pornstar pulled their share. Probably.

Yuuri realized he knew so little about the inner workings of the industry.

But it wasn’t like working at _SV Studios_ would help that. From what he had seen so far, it didn’t appear to be a normal pornography studio. Other porn that Yuuri had seen definitely included kissing and orgasms inside orifices. Why Yakov was against them, aside from higher risks of infections or other health concerns, Yuuri couldn’t figure out. But if he had Vitya the Living Legend as his main source of income, then Yakov could probably set any rule he wanted and people would still flock to their work. Perhaps it was something _about_ Vitya that had Yakov making strange rules. Yuuri didn’t bother trying to decode that mess.

He did try to convince himself that the shoot would go fine. It wasn’t like he was a virgin who never had sex before. He just hadn’t had a dick inside his ass on camera. Couldn’t be that hard. He had his bare ass on a stage with a pole for impressive numbers of people. This wouldn’t be much different.

The tingling, niggling thoughts that wormed their way through his veins and wrapped around his brain in knots told him otherwise and kept him up throughout the night.

* * *

Yuuri stood in Yakov’s office, his paperwork filled out for the day, but his boss was nowhere in sight. He knew where Yakov put the filled-out papers, but he didn’t want to mess with anything by putting the stuff back himself. Setting it on top of Yakov’s keyboard, Yuuri placed a paperweight onto the edge to keep the stuff from falling to the floor and getting lost. He then went out to the bulletin board and signed his time.

That was when he heard the commotion. He glanced over and saw that Room 104 was lit up and there were people heading into it. People he had never seen before.

And they were going into his recording room.

Yuuri’s heartbeat quickened as he walked over and peered into the room.

The noises were immediately louder as the entire set came into view. There was a cheap hot tub set up and wired against the far wall, the water bubbling and steam curling into the air. There were several air conditioning units, and now Yuuri could see why.

There were upwards of twenty bodies in the room at any one time. He recognized Mila and Georgi instantly. Mila was directing and waving her arms around excitedly, chatting with someone he didn’t recognize with an over-the-shoulder camera. It was bigger than the camcorder that Vitya had used yesterday, but they had used the bigger cameras before, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that they would be used here.

Viktor was on the opposite side of the room sitting in a salon chair, Georgi combing his hair and spraying it with something while the girl Yuuri recognized as Sara—

 _Oh_.

She was fluffing him. Okay. Yuuri still wasn’t able to get used to that, apparently. He had forgotten about fluffers. Were they supposed to start with that stuff before they began shooting? Yuuri supposed Viktor would be wearing a costume that could keep it close to his body until it was needed for the, uh, main show.

Either way, Viktor had his eyes closed and an easy smile on his face, the curl of a lip that knew he was the best in the room, like it was normal for someone to be rubbing his dick in front of a bunch of other people. Although calling it enjoyment would have stricken the wrong cord. Even from this distance, he looked comfortable only because it was a familiar situation. Any enjoyment of the situation was impossible to see.

Then again, Vitya was going to do much worse than get a handjob in front of just as many people in a little bit. Yuuri wasn't sure how Vitya thought about that.

The room felt so much hotter now. But when Yuuri peered down, he knew it wasn’t because he was getting hard, because the front of his pants were about as flat as the floorboards. Why was there never a crew this large for their other shoots? Yuuri couldn’t remember if he had seen a whole crew on his first day in the studio when he first met Vitya, but perhaps that was exactly why he didn’t remember. Meeting a pornstar god for the first time was bound to shut out every other sensory experience that wasn’t directly related to below the waistband.

Yuuri gulped, entirely unprepared for the massive influx of unease beginning to flood into his system.

“Yuuri! You’re here!” Mila’s arms hung around his shoulders, causing him to jump. “You ready to give us a show?”

“Uh,” Yuuri licked his lips, wishing he had a little more space, but also not making a move to get away because there was nowhere else to turn without bumping into someone else.

“Yuuri!” Viktor’s cheerful voice called from the back. Yuuri knew he didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see the pleasure on Viktor’s face because fluffers were meant to keep him hard, so he had to be enjoying himself in that regard, surely?

Yuuri held up a small wave, the motion stagnant because his blood was running cold through his veins and his muscles weren't to work properly. The world buzzed around him but he paid it no attention as Mila dragged Yuuri closer and closer to exactly what he didn’t want to see.

He began thinking that it would be okay to let Phichit pay the rent this month, too. It would be okay to quit his portion of the lease and leave for Japan if it meant he wouldn’t be faced with _this_.

Then there were white, puffy clouds in his vision, pushing up against his glasses. Yuuri’s head tilted up to see Sara’s face. One arm was out toward him, holding the cloud he now realized was a robe, which thankfully blocked his vision of her arm moving up and down.

“Hey, Yuuri,” her voice was sweet, accented but not in the same way that Viktor’s was, not curled and rolled, but it flowed nicely all the same, “I’ve heard so much about you!”

If Yuuri could fall further to the floor while still standing, he would. He would will the floorboards to part from their nails and spread like the Red Sea, swallowing and drowning him. Hearing that a fellow pornstar recognized him from the dismal videos he put out over the last two weeks was the last thing he wanted to hear about when he was about to film with the greatest pornstar in the world.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice called to him from above the depths of his mind. “Are you going to put the robe on?”

Yuuri blinked. Mila had her hand on her hip, looking if not impatient then at the very least amused. Georgi had moved away from Viktor’s chair, having finished his work, and was beckoning Yuuri over to another chair. Yuuri looked down at what he was wearing and nodded meekly, still not meeting Viktor’s eye. If he did that, he wasn’t sure he would see Viktor at all.

Yuuri walked over to the chair and halfheartedly listened to the instructions being spoken over the cacophony of camera clicks and water bubbles and low, bellowing grumbles.

Wait.

Yuuri had already taken off his shirt and dropped his pants when he saw precisely the person he least wanted to see in this room at this time.

Yakov was arguing with a person holding a set piece and another holding what Yuuri recognized instantly as another sex ramp. It wasn’t the one Viktor had used during their practices, but it had that same slope and same intention. Regardless, Yakov was hard to miss even in this crowd. What was he doing here?

“He’s evaluating the shoot,” Mila answered Yuuri’s question, seeing where his gaze landed, “Vitya hasn’t shot a full shoot since you came on, so he’s just making sure Vitya hasn’t lost his touch,” Mila winked. “He’s getting up there in pornstar years, you know. Been in the industry for longer than most.”

Yuuri had a funny feeling he knew, but asked anyway. “How long?”

Mila's face became quizzical. “Since he turned eighteen on the dot. Practically ten years now,” then, as an afterthought, “I wonder if Yakov has any old-guy scripts he’ll have Vitya do now that he’s got some wrinkles with that gray hair.”

There was a laugh on her lips and a smile in her eyes, a telling sign she was joking, and Yuuri tried to smile along, but his heart wouldn’t listen at the same rate his ears did. He wasn’t entirely convinced Yakov was here to evaluate just Viktor. That just didn’t make sense.

The fact that Yakov had stolen a glance in his direction practically screamed the truth in his face. Yuuri ducked his head just as Georgi ducked his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and tilted it back up toward the ceiling, which was fine because he still wouldn’t be able to look at any other human face in the meantime. Then there was a comb in his hair and his eyes desired to close at the sensation, if it weren’t for the daggers he imagined being thrown into his chest, his stomach, his back and his neck.

“We’ll stick with the slicked-back look, okay Eros?” Georgi asked, already slipping into a role Yuuri wished he was more fluent in. Because he _should_ be, he should just be able to shoulder the costume and smolder his eyes and smirk his lips as soon as he walked into the room. He attempted to take a deep breath and felt his eyebrows knit closer together.

There was a _whack_ of a comb against his temple. “No wrinkles. I can’t do your hair properly if you’re squinting. And take your glasses off, you won’t need them today.”

Right. Of course. Yuuri was being an idiot, forgetting the steps and the routine and they hadn’t even started the cameras yet. Awful.

Yuuri tried to lay back and relax, the tension in his shoulders dropping with the longer breaths that he took and the more gel that was smeared into his hair. That stopped when he felt hands that weren’t his own opening his robe and exposing him to the A/C-ventilated air and possibly twenty pairs of eyes.

Yuuri snapped his head down only for it to be snapped back up by Georgi, but not before he saw Mila crouching at his side and sliding her hand up his thigh.

“M-Mila?” Yuuri asked.

“Yakov said you two need to be at least half-hard at the start, or it’ll take all day,” Mila reasoned as her slender fingers wrapped around his length, “which I think is sort of a lie. I’m pretty sure Vitya was rock hard the moment you walked into the room, and I don’t think you’ll be too far behind once we start filming.”

Flattery. Unfounded, but at least she was trying, even as she began shifting her hand up and down, getting a very real sense of where Yuuri was at mentally. It was strange, how vulnerable a man felt when the very thing that made him male was the thing that could be read by others so easily.

And Mila could very clearly read him right now. “Just pretend the cameras aren’t even there. None of us are there. Just you and Vitya, okay?”

Except that would be impossible. The noise in this room alone was approaching uncomfortable levels and the last time it was just him and Vitya, Yuuri ended up falling asleep. _Falling asleep_. And that was only yesterday. Surely he couldn’t learn that quickly.

And he was supposed to be Eros? An ironic laugh bubbled in his chest to the same beat as the hot tub at the other side of the room. It would have passed his lips had the twist of Mila’s wrist not wrenched any noise from his throat.

“You’re starting to stand at attention, soldier,” Mila commented, “I think you’re about ready. How’s his hair, Georgi?”

“Midnight black, like the raven’s feathers in the early morning light,” Georgi sighed reverently. “It should hold for most of the shoot. My work here is done.”

And with that, there was one less person in the room. Mila replaced the robe over him and turned his chair to the mirror. There were people working about in the background, paying next to no attention to the two men with boners in the corner of the room. It was strange, but Yuuri was feeling the ache of being left needy and untouched and he was sure it would hold until things picked up.

If things picked up. If he didn’t fail from the get-go.

Yuuri looked at the man that stared back at him through that reflective, decorative piece standing on the vanity. He blinked when Yuuri blinked, eyelashes fluttering over rosy, matte cheeks framed by shiny jet-black hair. Like he had just stepped out of a shower and began drying off. Yuuri never even noticed Georgi had done his makeup too. It was either a testament to Georgi’s skill or Yuuri’s poor ability to focus this morning.

The empty, cramping feeling in his gut probably added to that. He had thoroughly cleaned himself last night when he couldn’t fall asleep, which was a good thing in hindsight but it didn’t help his current situation at all. How good it would feel to be filled right about now...

That was the half hard-on talking.

Yuuri held onto that, though, because it was the only way he could figure things would turn out at least halfway decent. Everything else was blocked out as his eyes dropped, ignoring the mirror and Mila’s ramblings and the click-clack of a hundred shoes and the whirs of camera lenses and grumbles of a dissatisfied boss and—

Okay, maybe he wasn’t doing so well at ignoring things. His stomach groaned, partially because he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning out of fear that it would move too quickly.

Yuuri shook his head, staring at his bare feet and looking at his legs and wishing he had done something about them because they probably weren’t smooth, never as smooth as Vitya’s. And even though it was hidden by his robe, Yuuri knew he hadn’t shaved. He hadn’t done anything about his scent, either, other than take a shower, hoping for the best. His body wasn’t pornstar material at all.

Once again: why on earth would Vitya the Living Legend want to have sex with him other than to keep up a paycheck? He could be filming with so many other more talented, sexy people instead of wasting his time here and Yuuri hated to admit it but he couldn’t stop. His heart was racing and his balance was teetering his seat and the edges of his vision were churning and twisting and darkening and there was nothing but static in his ears—

“Yuuri?”

His entire body was electrified by that one word, that one voice that shook his soul and jostled his consciousness and returned him to the world of the living and the relatively sane.

Relatively.

Yuuri’s eyes met Viktor’s, dull earth meeting pale, cloudless skies. Silver hair was styled loosely, ends curling back toward his ear and over the back of his head. He had lidded eyes and a small, slim, easy smile that pierced Yuuri’s very essence.

“Are you ready to do this, Yuuri?” Viktor asked genuinely, voice as smooth as sheets of satin blowing in a spring breeze. “It’s our time.”

 _Our time..._ Yuuri could still feel the claws of an invisible monster at his throat, but Viktor pried them off one at a time with his eyes drooping and his smile widening and his _voice_ calling to Yuuri so, so sweetly. In another life Viktor was a succubus, a seducer, a god of sexual desire so much stronger than Eros, and some of that life must have bled into this one because Yuuri’s heart stuttered and something was growing further underneath his robe and he couldn’t help it one bit.

He _had_ to keep this job.

“I’m... I’m going to be the sexiest Eros I can,” Yuuri stated, a shadow of confidence allowing him to continue, “so, um. Please watch.”

Viktor blinked, smile faltering for a second, then chuckled. “Of course. I couldn’t ever take my eyes off of you.”

And just like that, Yuuri was pulled in again. Like he was watching a new video of Vitya’s for the first time. Except now, he was _in_ the video with him.

“Places!” Yakov said, his voice booming like a shout in the close quarters of the recording room. There was an increase in noise for the next ten seconds, and then a hushed quiet. Vitya winked at Yuuri and walked over to his position, motioning Yuuri toward the tub.

Yuuri would give it his all.

* * *

Eros soaked in the hot tub, letting the water bubble and fizz and tingle across his bare skin, taking a deep breath and steadying his readily increasing heart rate (he had just gotten it to calm down before, but now it was back again and he was sure he was going to have a heart attack before the end of the day). He rolled his shoulders and smoothed his hands over them, water cascading where his fingers trailed lazily.

The door to his hot tub room slammed open— really, _who_ would dare interrupt Eros in his hot tub room?— and a tall, buff man in skin-tight swimming trunks burst into the room with an odd-looking flotation device hooked under his arm and a whistle hanging from a cord around his neck. A lifeguard?

“What the hell?” Eros exclaimed.

The man sauntered up to the side of the tub, the lip of it meeting the perfect cinch of his waistline. “I see you don’t have a lifeguard here at your beach,” he drawled, eyes wandering around the edges to finally land on Eros’s body.

Eros was taken aback. “I’m not at the beach, this is a hot tub!”

The man simply shrugged. “No body of water is safe without a lifeguard. Name’s Vitya, by the way. Vitya the Lifeguard.”

But Eros wasn’t having it. There was a strange man in his hot tub room! “It’s like, two feet deep, dude. _What_ are you doing in here?”

Vitya the Lifeguard just smiled dazzlingly bright white teeth in his direction. It must have been some sort of spell, because Eros was already sensing the intensity in the man’s gaze and was falling prey to the way his eyes gleamed at the surface of the water that teased Eros’s body underneath.

“It’s okay, you can relax,” Vitya let his hand slide over the side of the tub until his fingers met Eros’s where he had been gripping the edge of the tub tight. His hands were _so soft_. “You’re safe now. Your lifeguard is here,” Vitya bit his lip and winked, suggestive and tortuously slow in all the right ways.

“Okay,” Yuuri said slowly, sinking back into the hot tub as the muscles began to unwind themselves again. Perhaps he could trust Vitya the Lifeguard.

He began to close his eyes, letting the warm water wash over him once again, his head sliding back to rest against the lip of the tub when—

A sharp whistle alerted him, Vitya suddenly standing far, far away from the tub.

“Get out of the water! Now!” Vitya yelled. “There’s a shark!”

The alarm mixed with panic in Eros’s mind and he scrambled out of the tub, water splashing all over the floor and his naked body exposed to very cold air relative to the hot tub. He slipped and slid as he ran over to Vitya’s side, breathing hard.

Then it hit him.

“Wait a minute,” Eros slowly put the pieces together, “there’s no shark in the hot tub!”

“Well,” Vitya stepped closer into Eros’s space, less than a foot apart, the heat of his body scorching compared to the frigid A/C-blasted air around them. The temperature change hardened Eros’s nipples, and it seemed Vitya had taken notice as well. “Aren’t you glad your lifeguard is here to save you just in case?”

Eros licked his lips, staring up at Vitya now that they were close enough to feel the breath escape each others’ lips. Vitya was gorgeous from far away, from the safety of the hot tub. Up close? Eros was suffocating under his gaze.

“I guess— wait. You should go. There’s no need for you to be here,” but even as Eros said it, he knew he was regretting it. He didn’t want to Vitya to leave, although he wouldn’t have been opposed to watching his hips sway as he left, with those swimming shorts leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Hmm,” Vitya put a finger to his lip, locking his hips with his other hand in mock thought, “I was thinking something different. I was thinking that I should stay here, with you, and I was thinking that we should have sex.”

Yuuri never wanted to say ‘yes’ so fast in his life.

Okay, Eros. Last line. You just have to say the last line, and Vitya will fuck you better than any partner you’ve had before. Just. Say. It.

Eros froze, his lips plump and parted but perfectly still, his eyes wavering.

Vitya quirked the eyebrow that was away from the camera, one which began zooming in on their faces. Eros still couldn’t speak.

“You know,” Vitya led in, his hand sliding up Eros’s arm with the slightest of pressure, “as a thank you for my— _hard_ work.”

Eros blinked rapidly. Right. Stupid, stupid. “O-Okay...”

No, that was wrong. He could practically hear the discomfort in the silence of the room.

When Eros still didn’t move, Vitya leaned down close and pushed Eros’s chin to the side so that his neck was bared. His soft lips met the junction of Eros’s neck and shoulder and the heat that resulted shocked his system into action.

Arms shot up to take a hold of Vitya’s, to ground Eros and keep him aware, because those lips were familiar on his skin, even if he had never felt them before. The sun couldn’t shine brighter on his skin if it had been focused by a magnifying glass.

Eros wanted more.

There was a hum, which he was surprised to hear come from his own throat, sending a low vibration to his lips. A vibration he was sure Vitya would _love_. Acting on that assumption, Yuuri attached himself to Vitya, joining his lips to that alabaster skin and claiming it before he could think about what it was he was meant to do. At this point, he was running high on the way Vitya’s body pressed against his, each particle of contact rushing all thoughts south.

Eros hated the swimming trunks that prevented his abdomen from feeling Vitya’s hard flesh between them. His blunt nails scraped their way down Vitya’s chest, one catching on Vitya’s nipple resulting in a tiny gasp, his lips now gone from Eros’s neck. Free to move, Eros sucked more kisses down Vitya’s front, latching quickly onto a pert nipple and nibbling greedily while his hands worked their way into Vitya’s shorts.

Eros peered upward to check if this was alright. Vitya’s eyes had fluttered shut, and while that could be a compliment, Yuuri was pretty sure he had told Vitya to watch him. He bit down on the nipple and squeezed his fingers around Vitya’s length at the same time.

Vitya’s eyes flew wide open, mouth hanging open as he watched Eros’s lips pop off of his chest, a string of saliva still connecting them. Eros shoved Viktor’s shorts off, letting gravity pull them to the floor. Vitya never bothered to step out of them, captivated as Eros knelt down slowly, kissing his way over the muscles until he was at eye level with—

Yuuri paused. Took a mental step back.

Because he _knew_ what size Vitya was supposed to be. He had watched Vitya for so many years that he had been sure he knew this man’s dick just as well as his own. But on camera, through a screen, was very clearly not the same thing. This was far bigger than anyone he had sucked off before. He racked his brain, hoping that perhaps this wasn’t in the script and they could skip it because _holy shit_ there was no way he was going to put that entire thing in his mouth. In hindsight, he should have asked Viktor for tips about this. He had the chance, and now he regretted not taking it.

Vitya’s hand was around it now, only showcasing precisely how massive it looked. The faint whir of a camera zooming next to Yuuri’s ear sharpened his focus again. He sucked in a breath and glanced upward, meeting Vitya’s eager eyes and finding himself smiling despite the daunting task.

Viktor didn’t smile, though. Vitya grinned wide, sliding his hand up and down his length and guiding it to Eros’s face. He slapped it against his cheek, waiting for Eros to open up. Almost by some weird instinct— or desire— Eros opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Sure, it was huge and a little intimidating, but that was what made challenges fun, right?

And neither Yuuri nor Eros liked losing a challenge.

The head of Vitya’s cock hit Eros’s tongue and he sucked it in immediately, laving around the entire thing, mapping it out like he hadn’t ever done so before— although he had definitely dreamed about it.

It tasted just like he expected, fit just like he expected, and yet it felt like so much more. Vitya’s hand still pumped, and Eros stuck his tongue out, sliding along the underside of Vitya’s cock. Skin slick with the usual sweat was in his mouth and the salty taste was a true tease of what he wouldn’t be allowed to taste.

Motivated by that, Eros wrapped his lips over the head and pushed forward. He was determined to take as much as he could, salivating more to make sure the ride was as smooth as possible. He closed his eyes, and bobbed, his tongue swirling leisurely around Vitya’s length.

Eros heard a long breath and a low sigh come from above him, encouraging him. Taking that as his cue, Eros bobbed a little faster, trying his damnedest to make it as good as he possibly could. It was a little slower going because someone this big was bound to make his jaw hurt, but he could make up quantity for quality.

“Is that all you can take?” Vitya prompted off-script. “That’s not much of a thank-you, is it?”

Eros’s eyes opened slowly, taking in Vitya’s still calm-and-collected features and trailing his vision downward until he realized exactly how far away he was from Vitya’s body. He’d barely taken in three inches, from what he could guess. There was still so much more. His mind raced to remember how he had done it with his previous partners and surged forward.

Too much. Too far.

He choked.

Not the good kind of choking, either. The kind of choking that happened when a cock was slammed into one’s uvula before they could prepare for it. Eros’s jaw tightened, earning a hiss from Vitya. Shaking his head and licking where he messed up as best he could, Eros popped off of Vitya’s dick and replaced it with his hand, smearing the spit and precome down the rest of his length.

He tried to replace it with a heated look that he always saw Vitya always flash at his on-screen partners, pulling Vitya back to complete hardness. It must have worked somehow, because he could feel the change underneath his fingers. Vitya’s hand returned over his, slapping the head and glossing Eros’s cheek.

“You thought I was finished?” Eros asked, trying to maintain a shred of dignity even though he’d been slapped in the face twice with a pornstar’s dick. Licking his lips, he saw Vitya’s eyes widen when he took the length back in again to where he had to quit before, nearly six inches deep. He cleared his throat and eased down as far as he could.

The problem was, this was far deeper than he had done it before, and this was far, far thicker than he was accustomed to. Swallowing around Vitya experimentally, Yuuri realized his second mistake. But at that point he was sure he had to just stick it out, so he bobbed to try and assuage the feeling of nausea that came from the uncomfortable position. He must be nearly eight inches deep. He had to be.

He opened his eyes and saw that his nose was still another inch or so from Vitya’s pubic hair. Dismayed, although slightly pleased that at least he could tell for himself that the carpets naturally matched the drapes because he would be able to notice a dye job no matter how good it was (thanks, Phichit), Eros narrowed his brows and shoved himself forward.

“Eros, wait—” Vitya’s hushed warning came too late.

The movement was too forced, the width of Vitya’s cock— while not necessarily the thickest Eros had ever seen— combined causing his throat to close and his jaw to tighten. Eros pulled off with a series of coughs, thankful that his gag reflex was weak enough that he didn’t accidentally throw up. Not that he’d have anything to throw up, but still.

Embarrassing all the same.

Yuuri could see Yakov out of the corner of his hazy vision, minutely shaking his head and jotting something down on a clipboard. The determination he had felt a second ago dissipated quickly and he wanted nothing more than to stand up and run from the room. Run, run, run as far away as he could as fast as he could, and never see any of these people ever again.

But for some reason none of the cameras stopped. They were still aimed at them, and Yuuri had his head down, face burning red and staring at his own cock, still hard but now less so with the weight of all the eyes on him.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Yuuri looked up to see Vitya, ever in character, reaching out his hand to cup Eros’s jaw, massaging it and leading it back to his cock. At this distance, Eros saw the small, crescent teeth marks that indented the sensitive skin. One the one hand, Eros knew it must have hurt.

On the other hand? Eros liked knowing Vitya had something to remember him by. Okay, not the best present. Not by a long shot. But Vitya was still silently asking him to continue, so perhaps it was okay.

Maybe Vitya secretly liked it.

The thought of being able to turn Vitya on was enough motivation to get Eros to open his mouth and accept Vitya’s cock again. This time, he slowed, showering silent praises with his tongue and savoring the slide of skin against his lips. When the tip hit the back of his throat, he was more prepared than before. Vitya’s small, appreciative noises were picked up by the cameras, but the open, slurping, choking noises Eros added were sure to drown them out.

One or two times, Eros had to bite down because his jaw protested here and there, but so what? Noises were what mattered in porn. Amateur he was, but not an idiot. And Vitya was professional enough to play the same cards. He only hoped the red in his cheeks had disappeared in the time it took him to find his rhythm again.

The tempo was trance-like, the dichotomy of Eros’s hums vibrating along Vitya’s cock and Vitya’s moans churning the heat in Eros’s gut an ebbing and flowing tide of arousal. Vitya had his hand threaded in Eros’s hair, his hips pushing in and out, back and forth, enticed by the way Eros greeted it and treated it like a gift from the heavens. There were stutters and pauses of Eros working his jaw and Vitya mumbling sweet nothings.

But soon Vitya began to slow, and when he pulled himself all the way out, Eros found himself feeling so very, very empty.

“Cut!”

* * *

People were moving immediately, the sounds of numerous footsteps clamoring to shuffle the scene around and toss robes and set up ramps and lube and so many things all at once jarring the mood.

Sara came up and handed Yuuri and Viktor their robes, giving a thumbs up to Yuuri before walking back over to another part of the set.

Viktor tied his robe and held a hand out to help Yuuri stand. In a shocked daze, Yuuri took the offer with little more than a murmur of thanks. Viktor smiled at him, warmer than earlier and hinting at something left unsaid. Yuuri was about to ask what was going to happen next when Mila came up and shuffled Yuuri over to the chair he had been in before they started.

"Vitya," Yakov's gruff whisper still louder than any respectable whisper beckoned the man over, the same stern, unreadable look plastered onto his face. Yuuri didn't have to try hard to overhear, despite the herd of elephants rampaging the room into some semblance of order, so he busied himself with the robe, interested solely in the stitching of the fibre and the warning in his boss's tone.

Viktor's smile didn't dissipate, his jovial expression not once intimidated by Yakov. "Yes?"

Yuuri subconsciously leaned over in his chair, heart pounding in his chest. Mila had come back to him after doing something else and began moving his robe to the side. Yuuri couldn’t be bothered to take notice of it.

"You have bite marks," Yakov hissed— as much as a large Russian man with a natural bellow could hiss— and gestured below the knot of Viktor's robe, none too subtle. "Look, I don't care if he's a world renown ballet dancer— I'd suggest you teach him how to do it properly next shoot or I _will_ let him go."

Yuuri's heart dropped down to the floor, his eyes following, ignoring Mila’s hand on him.

"Aww, Yakov!" Viktor's crestfallen voice carried over the set. "Why does everyone only care about my dick?"

Yuuri heard something else in Yakov’s statement, but refused to let it get to his head. There was still more to this shoot.

Mila finished her job— to her satisfaction and obviously not Yuuri’s— and wished him luck. Yuuri tried not to think about the implication in that statement as Viktor walked over to him with that same smile that Yakov hadn’t manage to wipe off his face.

“We should start on the prep,” Viktor said it like it was a given, a normal thing. Well, it was normal for a pornstar, but could Yuuri really say that he was a pornstar yet?

He supposed he would be after today. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before.

“You think you’re ready?” Viktor asked when Yuuri didn’t respond. “I could give you a few minutes if you need it.”

“N-No!” Yuuri started. If they didn’t get this over with, his nerves would get the best of him. They had fixed this issue yesterday. Yuuri knew he should be comfortable with this now, or at least his body should be more willing. “Let’s do this.”

Vitya’s eyes sparkled. “Okay,” he said, although his lips had other words formed. He grabbed Yuuri’s hand without hesitation and brought them to the clearing in the floor where the tiles had been cleaned and the sex ramp had been laid out and bottles of lube had been stashed by the side of the hot tub, now turned off so that the machine’s sounds weren’t another obstacle. They shed their robes and tossed them aside— promptly picked up by stagehands or whatever they were called in this case, Yuuri wasn’t sure.

Vitya sat by the ramp and patted the top of it in invitation. Yuuri knelt behind it, shuffling his back end onto the ramp and spreading his legs. The flush of color that had previously stayed on his cheeks now reached the area of his chest that even he could see. No one else seemed to be looking at them, busy with some other work, but it was jarring all the same.

Vitya frowned. “I was thinking, maybe you should flip over? It’s an easier position. You know, sort of like yesterday?”

Yuuri braced his arms for a moment, thinking on the suggestion. It was an understandable one, and he could use all the help he could get. Considering the way his heart was pounding in his chest at having his bare ass not only having Vitya the Living Legend within an arm’s length but also minutes away from having the pornstar’s cock inside him, perhaps looking away would be helpful. “Okay.”

Yuuri turned over, the ramp underneath his abdomen and holding his ass in the air for him, the pressure on his knees gone. The pressure on his dick, however, remained. He let his head fall into his arms, trying to tune out everything but the sound of the bottle’s cap and the feel of Vitya’s weight looming over him.

Then Vitya’s hand was pulling at his ass cheek, spreading them apart, and liquid was being poured over his hole. Gasping into his arms and hoping he hadn’t been heard, Yuuri had to force himself not to clench.

Vitya’s finger began rubbing, just rubbing, up and down, gracing his entrance with little more than a feather-light, slippery touch. “You know,” Vitya whispered only to him, “I meant it when I said you had a great ass, Yuuri.”

“Eros,” Yuuri hastily corrected him. “We’re filming.”

Vitya’s finger stilled, putting the slightest bit of pressure where it counted. Yuuri bit his lip. “We’re prepping. The cameras aren’t on.”

“We’re _filming,_ ” Yuuri insisted. “I don’t want Yakov to give you another strike.”

Vitya pushed in then, while Yuuri was distracted, but didn’t say anything more. Perhaps there was nothing to say. Yuuri took a deep breath, memorizing the way Vitya’s finger pushed and pulled, ironically forcing himself to relax. It worked until Vitya pulled out, pouring yet more lube on top of him and spreading the length of his fingers over the hole before pressing two inside at once. Yuuri groaned, fingernails digging into his forearms.

“I think I’ll have to work you up to four fingers,” Vitya commented, probably more to himself.

_Why can’t I just do it myself?_

“But why so much lube?” Yuuri asked instead, attempting to block out the thoughts that were threatening to fill his mind with dread. Four fingers sounded like overkill. Then again, he knew first hand now how _big_ Vitya was. He was caught in between wanting to be stuffed to the brim and being terrified that people were going to see his ass split open on Vitya’s cock.

Oh, how sweet the death.

“Well, we have to be going for awhile, so the more lube the better. Yakov doesn’t like too many lube breaks. Thus the spit-takes sometimes,” Vitya explained. “I’m doing what I can,” he added at the same time as the third finger entered.

Yuuri bit his lip and took a sharp intake of breath. Vitya stilled.

“Do you want me to rub there a little?” Vitya teased his finger closer to the spot he was referring to, the heat spreading throughout Yuuri's entire body now. “It might help.”

“A-Ah,” was all Yuuri could manage, savoring the way Vitya’s other hand smoothed over his lower back, his spine, and back to his ass, gripping it with just enough force to be pleasurable but not enough to urge a moan. Yuuri wondered if that was on purpose, if Vitya was _that_ good at reading his partners.

Vitya chuckled and pumped his fingers a few more times before doing as he said he would, rubbing against the spot slowly. “You’re doing well this time around, are you excited?”

Yuuri couldn’t tell if that was a rhetorical question, but he didn’t feel like he was actually doing any better. He was pretty sure the only reason he wasn’t whimpering was because the excess amount of cold lube overpowered any warmth or sting and because there were people around to hear him and he was still self-conscious about the whole thing. The fact that he was still going through with this was a miracle in itself.

Vitya worked him open for a few more minutes, the scene around them settling down and some cameras were stood in place, other cameras on people’s shoulders. Lights were adjusted and Yuuri could sense more and more eyes glancing in his direction. He hid his face further.

“Hey, Yakov!” Vitya’s voice piped up, the vibrations going straight through to where they were connected. Yuuri was pulled from his thoughts abruptly. “I think we’re ready to start!”

There was a low grumble and when Yuuri looked up, he saw his boss nodding slowly. “Places,” he said, although with less effort than he had the first time around.

* * *

Eros took the strange flotation device from under Vitya’s arm. “I think I have another way to thank my hot lifeguard for saving me from that... shark.”

Yuuri nearly lost composure. Vitya didn’t flinch, didn’t register in his face that the sentence Yuuri just uttered wasn’t a normal sentence. Instead, he allowed Eros to set the piece onto the ground and lay his body on it, his front exposed and eager. A camera marched closer. Eros gulped quietly, wondering if this was going to be the day he died.

Vitya knelt in between his legs, his hands gripping at his thighs. “This is quite the gift,” he marveled at the sight that greeted him, his eyes roving over the scene that Eros almost wished he could see, “is all of it for me?”

The same camera came up close and he could practically feel the cool metal close to his ass. Ignore it, ignore it. “As much as you want, Vitya,” Eros purred.

It was then that Vitya held his length up to Eros’s hole and wasted no time pressing in. Without time to prepare himself mentally, Eros’s head fell back as his hole stretched to accommodate the intrusion. The groan that escaped his lips was low, the sensation nearly too much. He was stretched and filled and— for once today— was enjoying every possible second he was getting.

Vitya pulled out before Eros’s brain could comprehend the overwhelming feeling of _this is happening_. Suppressing a whimper, Eros peered upward to see Vitya’s face stoic and stern. His length was barely visible from this angle, but Eros knew it was there when it pressed into him again.

“You’re really tight,” Vitya groaned out, a microphone not far away, “fuck, really tight.”

Eros closed his eyes, savoring the same stretch as before but without the added view of the cameras. They never bothered him so much before, had they?

The teasing in and out that Vitya was subjecting Eros to was driving him nearly mad until he felt Vitya lean more weight onto his thighs. He sucked in a breath, anticipating but still not expecting Vitya to shove more of himself into Eros. It was hard to tell just how much was inside him now, but he found he wasn’t really caring.

It had been way too long since Yuuri had sex. That could be the only explanation as to why Vitya pulling all the way out _once again_ and pushing more of himself inside was so incredibly hot. Hot enough that the appreciative sigh he made almost didn’t register as his own.

Vitya picked up the pace, no longer pausing at the lull or the apex, but increasingly steadying them. Eros was glad his ass was up off the tile floor and seated on the velvety ramp, because he wasn’t sure how long he could hold this position. He already had his arms hooked under his knees and he was focusing on making sure his feet didn’t accidentally swing into the camera frame. Trying to keep his body half in the air while getting fucked didn’t seem feasible.

There was increased pressure on the inside of this thigh, purposeful, secretive. Yuuri peeked an eye upward to see Vitya raising his eyebrows in some silent command. When that didn’t work, Vitya pushed in hard and forced a gruff moan, pointed and obvious.

Yuuri reciprocated, making his noises lighter and louder, making up for what he’d been too far in his head to do.

The thing was; it did actually feel good. Even though Vitya wasn’t using his entire length and the movements were stagnating after the first minute, the drag on his walls were striking something within Eros. Something that sent sparks. He couldn’t really name it because it was gone before he could think on it much more.

Vitya shifted, guiding Eros’s leg up onto his shoulder and pulling out to allow Eros more freedom in moving his hips. Eros at least had the bearings to angle his hips so that he was more splayed out toward the camera. A wave of anxiety was pushed aside as the presence of Vitya inside him again reminded him to keep the noises going.

This stretch was nothing on his legs. His lower leg hooked around Vitya’s waist, pulling him in harder on each thrust. Eros reveled in it, enjoying it, because why not? Sex should feel good. Should feel freeing and expressive and between two— or twenty-plus— people.

Okay, well, it felt good. Eros wasn’t going to disagree with that statement.

Vitya pushed in just a little deeper then, a moan tumbling from Eros’s mouth before he could think about it. And perhaps that was the trick. Don’t think about it. Just take, take, _take_ it until it felt like Vitya was actually his to have. The joke almost made him laugh, but he allowed it to be drowned out in the collective noises of their pleasure.

They were in this pose for awhile before Vitya spoke something more than sweet nothings. “Your ass is such a gift, Eros. Taking my cock nice and deep.”

Okay, little more than sweet nothings. But Eros could work with that. “ _Oh_ ,” he sighed heavily, “take me deeper, Vitya. Deeper, deeper— _ah—_ ”

Vitya obeyed commands like a well-trained pet. Good to know.

Good to know Vitya’s entire cock was seated inside Eros and _not_ staying still. Vitya had gripped his hips tighter if anything, his nails scraping fire into Eros’s skin as he changed the pace to small, quick thrusts, more than half of his length inside Eros at any one time.

The change had Eros’s body bouncing involuntarily before he could control it. Maybe he didn’t want to control it. Maybe he liked feeling Vitya force his body to move like this. Or maybe that was his untouched cock speaking.

Speaking of which, Eros’s hand traveled over his own body, fingers smoothing their way south. He gave himself a few quick tugs just for a moment, attempting to ground himself. It worked, the relief quickly turning into something more heated. Not wanting to make himself finish early— or however long they had been filming for now— Eros gripped his thigh and held it there, knowing that Vitya’s hand was up around his ankle, chaining them together.

Vitya, for his part, kept thrusting like it was the only move his body knew— which was probably true. But whenever Eros looked up to check how they were doing, Vitya didn’t look at him. Not directly, nor for very long. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were either closed or looking down and away. His body was rigid except for his hips where they snapped back and forth.

It was like Eros— Yuuri— didn’t exist. Like Vitya was just fucking some sort of toy.

If Eros hadn’t stopped whimpering and moaning and making other noises by that point, he stopped then. A few gasps and groans were drawn from his lips, but those were more from the occasional rub against his prostate or the push and pull of a fuller thrust than normal. The cameras picked it up just fine. That was easy to tell, because there was one right up against his face in a heartbeat.

Eros lidded his eyes, panting and willing himself to look the camera in the eye for a brief moment. This was a job. A job. For a paycheck. Nothing more.

Just pretend to be sexy.

_How?_

The camera then panned down the length of his body, now beginning to glisten with sweat. Vitya was worse for the wear, the sweat beading on his forehead and perspiring down the hard lines of his stomach.

At which point, Yakov called cut again.

Several people came up to them with towels and patted them down, Vitya’s cock still buried deep inside. It was an out-of-body type of experience, watching from above as Eros was cared for by people who didn’t care that his erection was in their faces or that his ass was currently stuffed by another dick. In the midst of it all, Mila also came by to make sure Eros was still plenty hard.

All the while, Vitya never spared him a smile— or a look at all. He spoke with a cameraman about an angle, asked something in a low voice, and pointed to parts of himself and Eros, nodding when they came to an agreement.

“Yuuri,” Vitya said, finally looking at him.

“Hm?”  Yuuri twisted to speak to him— only to remember they were still connected. The jolt to them both was a mix of pleasure and pain, judging by the way that Yuuri felt Vitya’s cock twitch.

“ _Ah_ ,” Vitya winced as he set Yuuri’s ankle down, “we’re going to switch to doggy. Skip ahead. Then lean back into reverse, okay?”

“What about the end?” Yuuri asked. Doggy was supposed to be the last position, and cowgirl was supposed to take place before that. Was this what Vitya meant when he said scripts were almost always forgotten, or was this just how Vitya filmed? Yuuri imagined other partners must have found it frustrating.

Vitya shrugged. “I think we can go back to the first one. Easier to finish when we’re facing each other.”

Yuuri wanted to ask why that was easier— why staring at the person fucking you was going to make an orgasm any easier to reach— when Yakov’s warning for everyone to get back into their spots cut off his reply.

“Talk more,” Vitya whispered as they assumed their positions, “you’re too quiet.”

Yuuri paused. He thought he’d been doing a good job. If he hadn’t been, they would have fired him already. Or at least they would soon after.

Maybe he could still fight for it.

Eros arched his back as he lay on his stomach over the ramp, pushing his ass higher, granting what he hoped was a better view for Vitya. The chuckling sounds that came from several others before Yakov hushed them worried him. He looked over his shoulder to check Vitya’s expression, only to come across something that stupefied him as much as it probably did Vitya.

His eyes weren’t leaving, finally fulfilling his promise.

With that sort of look, Eros expected Vitya to take him fast and hard as soon as Yakov uttered the word for them to start again. And he almost did. Vitya had taken Eros’s ass into his hands, massaging and spreading the cheeks, no doubt watching the way his hole fluttered. Eros wasn’t sure if he was feeling anticipation or concern, nor was he sure which person he was talking about.

Either way, Vitya leaned up against Eros’s ass, allowing his erection to slide up along his cheeks. Eros remembered that trick from several shoots ago, clenching and bobbing his back end so that it trapped Vitya behind him. There was a choked gasp, but it was more measured. “You want this, huh? You want my cock in your ass?”

Eros moaned in the neediest way he believed he had ever done before, stalling so that he could think of something a pornstar would say. “Yeah, I want that cock in my ass. Put it in me, _deep_ in me. I wanna fucking feel it tomorrow.”

Yuuri cringed at his own words, but apparently they were the right ones because Vitya stopped sliding himself, stopped teasing, and began entering Eros faster than he had done earlier. The slide in was fluid, one motion, deeper and deeper until Vitya’s pubic hair touched his ass. The strained gasp that escaped from Eros was absolute filth, not meant for the cameras but captured all the same.

Spurred on, Eros pushed back, wanting to feel all of Vitya’s body against him, wanting Vitya to bend over and grab him and fuck into him with enough force to make him see stars. “Oh, fuck,” he sighed, “fuck, fuck. More.”

Vitya heard the prayers and answered, pulling back and snapping forward once, twice, three times before settling into a pace that made Yuuri want to bite into his arm so that he wasn’t too loud.

But this was porn, he could be as loud as he wanted.

It being porn also meant that Vitya wouldn’t stay too deep inside, however. Not for long. Now that they were in a rhythm, Eros could tell that Vitya wasn’t putting all of himself inside. Vitya held onto one side of his ass, pulling it apart no doubt for the camera, angling his body to the right so that the cameras could come in closer, getting a view Eros wished he could see. It caused a low whine to come from Eros’s throat, earning him a slap that he was sure was telling him to behave.

Eros didn’t like behaving.

He waited, waited for Vitya’s beat to slow, for Vitya to tire. It took awhile, although maybe only five minutes or so, Eros wasn’t sure. As soon as it dipped and showed no sign of returning, though, Eros pushed his upper half up with his arms and twisted his torso. One hand reached around to palm Vitya’s chest.

They both stopped dead. Eros licked his lips. “I want a turn now, Vitya.”

There was a low snicker somewhere beyond the cameras, but it went largely ignored. Eros pushed lightly, watching as Vitya’s expressions went from heated to stunned, eyes wide and pupils large, only slivers of that oceanic blue to remain. His chest caved, following Eros’s direction as he began to lean back.

Vitya wrapped his arms around Eros’s torso, pulling them flush together as he began to sink back, the transition a little shaky. Yuuri supposed that it would be taken out in editing. Once Eros was off the ramp, he shuffled his legs forward and kicked it away before bracing himself, letting Vitya’s grip regrettably slip away as he lay on the cool tile below Eros.

Now situated above Vitya, Eros propped himself with his feet on either side of Vitya’s hips and his arms braced behind him. With the ramp kicked away, another camera replaced the space, aimed right where both of them were bared in the most intimate ways. As intimate as they could be in front of so many people, that was.

Eros closed his eyes, willing away the thoughts that yearned to surface and ruin him. It couldn’t happen yet. Wait until it’s all over, please, please—

“Please, please,” Eros whimpered as he bobbed up and down just the way he wanted it to be done. “Oh, Vitya— your cock is so big.”

Eros hadn’t realized Vitya wasn’t holding onto him until after Vitya’s hands gripped at Eros’s waist, digging his nails once again into desperate flesh. The brief flash of pain softened, Vitya’s hold sliding languidly up and down his sides, acting more as a reminder that he was there, that he was more than just a toy, too.

Eros thanked him by dropping lower, savoring the drag and the groan of surprise that came from underneath him. He could stay like this forever— or for as long as his body would allow. Yuuri thanked all of his training, his coaches, his teachers, for instilling in him the sense of determination and stamina. Because Eros needed it.

He had his way with Vitya like this until the knots in his gut began to tighten. High on it, he chased the end, the finish line, the final push that would have him crumbling, shaking, spent. Eros switched from his feet to his knees, sitting up into a kneel so that he could bounce on Vitya’s cock, hitting the spot he needed more often than not. Finally in a position to use his hands, Eros pulled at his own cock, leaking and still painfully hard. He pumped in time with his movements, but soon began going faster, the churning desire expounded by Vitya’s length inside him.

Vitya’s front was suddenly flush with his back, halting everything. Vitya’s hand wrapped around the base of Eros’s cock and squeezed. _Not yet._

_I’m close. Not yet._

Eros stilled with an agitated, stuttering gasp. Vitya thrust upward shallowly, turning the gasps into small whimpers. The drag wasn’t anything new, no new sensation to spark his insides, because who knew how long they had been at it now.

That was when Eros realized it.

Vitya was tired.

They remained unmoving, but the cameras didn’t turn off. No one stirred. Yuuri wasn’t sure if this was abnormal or if the camera crew were all allowing them to catch their breath. Vitya’s breath panted in between his shoulder blades, warm and staggered, and his hands were still on Yuuri’s hips, quivering.

Yakov walked up to the edge of the shoot area, out of camera shot, and said something in Russian. Yuuri felt Vitya shake his head, his bangs falling down to brush against his spine. When Yakov prompted Vitya again, harsher, Vitya answered back in kind, the curl of the foreign language still sending shivers through Yuuri’s body and reverberating where they were joined.

Whatever Vitya said, the meaning was lost because Yakov’s expression didn’t change. He simply nodded and walked back, barking an order.

“V-Vitya?” Yuuri asked quietly, afraid that it wasn’t his place to interrupt whatever had transpired.

“I’m going to pull out,” Vitya switched back to English, the accent a little thicker. “And we’re going to lay sideways for the end. When I give you this signal,” Vitya pinched the side of Yuuri’s thigh, “you have to come.”

Eros lifted his hips slowly, his eyes closing in appreciation as Vitya slid out with a _plup_. “You mean, on command?” he asked as he moved over to lie on his side, facing Vitya. “Why can’t I just come after you? It’ll be easier if I just, uh, do that myself. A-Anal stimulation alone doesn’t usually do it for me.”

Vitya quirked a disbelieving eyebrow, accepting a towel from a worker without dropping his gaze from Yuuri’s. “If we waited until you came, I’m afraid we’d be here for awhile. I’ve said this before, but it keeps surprising me every time; your stamina is quite impressive. I think it’s _I_ who has to keep up with _you_.”

Yuuri blushed, the dusting of pink on his cheeks adding to his already splotchy complexion. He accepted another towel and pat his face down, pointedly ignoring Vitya’s stare.

“I’ll get you as close as I can,” Vitya compromised, “so just try your best, okay? We’re almost done.”

The reassurance gave Yuuri pause, dropping the towel from his face. “Don’t you like this work, Vitya?”

Vitya’s gaze didn’t change for a moment, guarded and unassuming. “It has its perks,” he muttered as he pushed up and took the space behind Yuuri, placing one arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and under his head. Yuuri gladly laid his head down, the heat of Vitya against his cheek. A momentary respite while he heard Vitya reapply lube to his length.

Yakov gave them the go ahead before Yuuri could ask Vitya what the perks of being a pornstar were. Without pause, Vitya’s hands were on Eros. His hand slid over Eros’s chest, clutching him close, and his other hand explored lower, tickling and teasing and whispering to all the right places. Like it was some sort of payback for earlier. Eros moaned in a message that he hoped Vitya understood.

Then Vitya’s hand was gone and Eros glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening. Vitya had his length in his hands, rubbing it in circles around Eros’s now fucked-open hole. The gasp he made was embarrassingly real as he tried to press back onto the feeling, wanting more after being edged just minutes ago.

And Vitya delivered, albeit tortuous and relaxed, pushing the head past the loosened ring of muscle and teasing with a few short thrusts. It wasn’t nearly enough and Eros felt like he was being overstimulated even though he hadn’t come yet. Whatever power Vitya had over him, it was nearly too much.

The control was gone and Eros was desperate. He wanted to finish and he wanted Vitya to be the one to bring him to that place, the place where his head would fall back and his vision would turn white and his corded muscles would twitch and spasm in release.

“Soon, Eros,” Vitya whispered into his ear so low Eros thought he imagined it, “just a few more. I wanna make you come just as bad as you want to,” his lips were millimeters away from nibbling on his earlobe, breath ghosting right over, making it the only noise Eros wanted to hear. The only noise that shot lightning from his brain down to his toes, causing them to curl as Vitya shoved all of his length inside at the same time.

“Fuck,” Eros’s voice came out as a squeak, “oh, Vitya. Vitya, _please_.”

“You like my cock, don’t you?” Vitya asked, punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that hit all the right spots and had Eros nearly shaking. “You like when it’s pounding into you.”

“Yes, yes,” Eros whimpered like a broken record, “yes, Vitya. More, please. Make me come.”

“I’m close too, Eros, I’m—” Vitya suddenly bit into Eros’s neck, groaning. Then Eros felt it. The way Vitya’s dick was throbbing inside him.

Even before Vitya pinched his thigh that was lifted up to curl around Vitya behind him, Eros was palming himself with rapid strokes. He tilted his head up in time to see Vitya’s face as he pulled out and played with himself next to Eros’s quickening hand. But it was his features, the twisted grimace of pleasure, which did it.

Eros shuddered as he came, splatters of come dripping onto his stomach and plopping onto the tile floor. Vitya wasn’t far behind, his come mixing, painting Eros’s cock and stomach and the tile as well.

Eros hoped he remembered to moan and groan and whatever other things he was supposed to do, because right now all he wanted to do was fall limp.

“That was quite the thank-you,” Vitya’s rough and husky voice pulled him out from under the spell, the recovery time all too short to be hearing literal sex in his ear after what they’d just done.

Eros’s heart was still thundering in his chest, his lungs finally catching up. “Y-Yeah.”

No, no, no. That was the wrong line. Don’t mess this up now. Not at the _very end_.

“Not just any thank-you would do for my lifeguard,” Eros insisted.

“And cut!”

* * *

Eros had only closed his eyes for a moment and he felt his body collapsing. Looking up, he saw that Vitya was already standing and being wiped down by several people with moistened towels, being offered his robe by Sara. Eros wasn’t even sure he could trust his own two feet right now.

Mila apparently had a death wish out for him, because she was hoisting him up from under the arms. “That was great, Yuuri! I think some of those shots are going to be our viewers’ favorites!”

The panic that had been subsided by intense desire came back full force, in tidal waves that rendered his feet waterlogged and lifeless. Mila helped him settle into a chair and put the robe in his lap after wiping him down briefly. She didn’t seem to notice his lack of response as anything of concern.

“You think you’ll be able to walk home? Vitya looked like he got a little carried away. Does Phichit have a car?”

The words swirled around in his head, a bowl of alphabet soup that spelled nothing but nonsense. Yuuri shook his head absentmindedly, although to which question he wasn’t sure.

“Yuuri!” That voice of sweet nectar floated closer.

Yuuri also wasn’t sure whether he wanted to curl in more on himself or open up to the invitation on that man’s talented tongue.

“Yuuri, that was great!” Vitya was in front of him now, already in sweatpants and a signature tight v-neck, looking for all the world like it was his day off instead. His hair was combed back into place and the smile on his face was one of childish innocence. “Everybody loved you.”

“Thanks, Vi—”

“But you’ll have to work on your pacing,” Viktor scolded, “and your noises were all over the place. I almost thought you were going to come early in some places. You may have great stamina, but you have to be more in tune with where your body’s at and youshouldreallyfigureouthowtocurbthat—”

“I get it,” Yuuri cut him off, more harshly than he intended.

Viktor stood stock still, and Mila stifled a snicker.

“Uh,” Yuuri backtracked, “l-look. I, um. Thank you.”

Viktor’s eyebrows furrowed, then he laughed. “It’s not often I get thanked for sex—”

“N-Not what I meant!” Yuuri said. “I meant— well, thank you for, uh, for the blanket and crackers yesterday. It was— it was nice of you.”

Mila stole a knowing glance at Viktor, although her raised eyebrow said something else without a word. Viktor shrugged to her sheepishly, at which she walked past him, shouldering him lightly without looking back. Yuuri didn’t know what that was about.

“I don’t know anything about the crackers,” Viktor began after a moment of awkward silence, “but you’re welcome. You looked tired and I didn’t want to wake you... I thought you would need the relaxation before we filmed a full shoot. Did it help?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, shut it. He nodded.

Viktor bit his lip, nodding in return. Neither one knew what came next.

It was an immense relief when Yakov walked up to them with two envelopes. He handed one to Viktor without a word and Viktor took that as a sign to walk away. He waved goodbye to Yuuri, nearly running into a cameraperson that tried to walk through the door at the same time. The scene produced a smirk on Yuuri’s lips.

Yakov held out the other envelope to him, bringing his attention back. “This is your paycheck. I don’t do direct deposit for security reasons.”

Yuuri took the envelope and opened it, eyeing the figure and promptly putting it back into the envelope, the heat in his cheeks returning for the thousandth time that day. “T-Thanks, Yakov.”

“See you next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These 13k chapters are not sustainable, so please don't expect them to stay this large. I should have a solid update schedule on my Tumblr within a couple days after posting this, so be on the lookout for that. Or just drop by and say hi?
> 
> (Also, I know there are several points in this chapter where italics create weird spaces. I would usually fix them but the chapter is too large for me to go through and fix every little one.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3


	10. Testing Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of their first full shoot, Viktor is acting more distant than usual.

Yuuri did his best to walk out of the recording studio with some form of dignity as he attempted to hide his limp. Despite all the people in the room having seen precisely _how_ Yuuri got that limp, it still felt awkward to let it show that it affected him this much.

He made it to the food table across the hall, gratefully leaning against the edge as he grabbed for whatever food he could reach. People absently passed by him, snagging a quick morsel or a sip of something from the coolers before running back to finish cleaning up. A few nodded to him, some even muttered various congratulations and praises for reasons unbeknownst to Yuuri.

Yurio had been one of many to walk past him, but the boy went straight into Yakov’s office as if going within the vicinity of the recording room would infect him with the plague. Yuuri attempted to say hi but was easily ignored by the brush of cool air between them when Yurio walked on without missing a step. Yuuri huffed out a breath and hobbled over to the cooler to grab a water bottle. He chugged half of it when Yurio came rushing out of Yakov’s office, keys jingling in his hand.

“Come on, Pig,” Yurio had a hand out to tug at Yuuri’s arm when he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he flashed the keys. “I’m taking you home. You’ll be here all night if you’re waiting for a ride from anyone here.”

“Oh, I’m not—” Yuuri started to face Yurio, realizing very quickly that it was a bad idea and gripping tightly to the edge of the table to steady himself.

“Well, you’re not fucking walking,” Yurio quirked an eyebrow with a pointed look, “idiot.”

Yuuri didn’t take kindly to being insulted by a teenager, but he didn’t say anything regarding that. It was clear Yurio was underestimating his strength, but at the same time Yuuri wasn’t opposed to being given a ride. It was just that he was _fairly certain_ a Russian teenager living in America didn’t have a driver’s permit. Hell, _Yuuri_ didn’t even have a license. Public transport had always been easier if the destination wasn’t already within walking distance.

The fact that Yurio could drive— or had access to a vehicle at all— sort of scared him.

“I have a permit,” Yurio answered, although it wasn’t as much of a relief as Yuuri had hoped, “and no one else is going to be ready to head out until late. I won’t be here then, and no one’s gonna wanna drive out of their way to drop you off. Either you get your ass in the car or I’m leaving you here for the weekend.”

Well, that sort of forced his hand, didn’t it?

“Okay, okay,” Yuuri acquiesced. “Show me the way.”

They walked out of the studio into the wintry midmorning air, older following the younger. The car that Yurio unceremoniously jumped into was a beaten-up Volkswagen, scratched-off paint scattered around the edges and the angles of the car sharp and boxy. Yuuri supposed it was brown but perhaps at one point it may have been green. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Although he never even asked for this in the first place.

Yuuri stepped into the passenger side and picked up several wrappers and CD covers before he sat down. He handed them to Yurio who tossed them into the backseat without a second thought, keeping one CD out as he turned on the engine. He put the CD in and blaring metal music rattled the frame, the cracked bass line murmuring low under their seats.

The vibrations didn’t necessarily help Yuuri’s back end, so he dialed it back a couple notches. Yurio looked like he was about to slap Yuuri for even touching it, but he didn’t act on it.

Although Yurio was shorter than Yuuri, he sat further away from the pedals, leaning back with his left wrist resting atop the steering wheel. He used his second hand on the steering wheel for turns, but otherwise rested it on the gearshift, keeping beat with the song. He looked way too comfortable driving for just having a permit. Yuuri tried not to think about what that meant.

It was silent and smooth for awhile, although not necessarily comfortable. Yuuri did his best to keep his attention outside his window, head propped up by his arm against the door. At least Yurio wasn’t a speed demon like Phichit. Perhaps he just made up for it by listening to really angry music.

“So,” Yurio’s voice spoke up, the relative silence that had been built up between them suddenly gone, “why couldn't you do this yourself? Or have the old man drive you?"

“I don’t have a car of my own,” said Yuuri as he set his hands in his lap. “And you already said that Yakov was busy.”

“I meant the other old man,” Yurio clarified as if it were obvious, “the one in love with you.”

Yuuri tried to think back through all the people that worked at _SV Studios._ The only older person was Yakov, really. Viktor had grey hair, sure, but he wasn’t old. Even if he was who Yurio meant, it was a laughable concept. No one falls in love in two weeks. “No one's in love with me.”

Yurio’s eyes glanced in his direction briefly before returning to the road and pretending to gag. Afterward, a blanket of still air fell over them, causing the smallest noises to sound like gunshots. Yurio cracked his neck a couple times and Yuuri shifted his weight and crossed and uncrossed his legs, neither commenting on the music that played nor the turns that were made. There was one moment when Yurio grumbled at a traffic light and uttered profanities to several drivers who were too slow on the uptake, but other than that, the only thing between them was another guitar riff coming from the speakers.

Yuuri’s mind wandered during this time, from how much he guessed he had to clean the apartment to what next terrible script he would be given for next week. He supposed Phichit would be home, but not for long. Phichit went out with friends from campus on most Fridays, and he hadn’t gone in awhile, so Yuuri was certain he would have the place to himself tonight. Make tea, get into comfortable pajamas, watch Netflix or something. Have the weekend to disconnect, to evaluate.

To tell his landlord his decision.

Yuuri’s body jolted forward as the car came to an abrupt stop along the sidewalk. He looked out the window and saw that he was outside the apartment.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, a little dazed as he unbuckled, “thank you, Yurio.”

“Don't mention it,” came the immediately reply, Yurio refusing to look in his direction.

Yuuri didn’t want to leave without Yurio knowing how much he appreciated this, though. "You really didn't have to, I'm not in that much pain—"

"Yes, I _did_ have to or you were going to be stuck there forever,” Yurio interjected quickly, “and no, I mean really, _don't mention it._ I don't need to hear about how much your ass hurts from the shit that goes on back there.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything after that, simply nodding and closing the car door behind him as he walked away.

“T-Thanks!” Yuuri called out at the last moment, but the car was already taking off down the street. Biting his lip and nodding to himself, Yuuri retracted his hand and headed inside, pausing on the stairwell to realize he had never told Yurio where he lived in the first place.

When he entered the apartment, Phichit coincidentally emerged from his room. His friend’s face went from confused to bright to concerned in the time it took Yuuri to bend down and hiss as he took off his shoes.

“Did you do the full shoot today?” Phichit asked, stuffing his phone into his pocket— a miracle in itself— and walking toward him.

Yuuri tried to stand up straight, knowing he was caught, but the motion was jerky. “What made you guess?” He attempted a weak smile.

“Yuuri,” Phichit fussed, tsking his tongue and wagging his finger. “I should have told you to call me. I would have brought you home. _Please_ tell me you weren’t dumb enough to walk all the way here with your ass in that condition.”

Before Yuuri could answer, or in this case, fumble awkwardly with his words, Phichit was already busying himself in the kitchen. He sifted through the cabinets, eyebrows dancing around in amusement as he took out things from several places, filled a kettle with water, and then skipped out of the kitchen and into the bathroom to run the water in the bathtub. Yuuri, his mind listening to one sound judgment, stood still and waited for the hurricane to pass.

“Here,” Phichit walked up to him with a glass of water he had set down during his rummaging. Then, forgetting something, he went back into the kitchen and shook a couple pills out of a bottle. Coming back to Yuuri’s side, he handed him the pills. “Take all four Advil. You’ll want to take the edge off, and then a bath should relax the rest. I’ll have tea ready for you either in the bath or when you get out. Your pick.”

“This really isn’t necessary, Phichit,” Yuuri took the pills anyway because yes, it did still hurt and yes, these would take the edge off. It felt worse now than before, Yuuri’s orgasm high and adrenaline both at fault since they dissipated between the end of the shoot and now.

“Come on,” Phichit took his hand gently, guiding them to the bathroom where a tub was nearly filled to the brim with steaming water, “it’s no onsen, but a hot bath will help. It’s what I do after the more intense shoots. You’ll have to start taking more of them, too. Anyway,” Phichit would have picked Yuuri up and dropped him into the tub if he could have, with the way he was babying him, but he stood back and turned off the water, testing it with his hand, “do you want company? I can stay and talk if you need me to.”

Yuuri was still standing, not having moved apart from the pressure to do so with Phichit bringing him in here. He was still in a sort of haze, the reality of what just happened that morning yet to turn the gears in his mind.

He just had sex with Vitya the Living Legend. As in, the world’s _greatest pornstar_ just inserted his dick into Yuuri’s mouth and ass. There was movement involved. Skin on skin, slick with sweat and lube and heady with lust.

Vitya and Eros did the do. That was the long and short of it, and the only way his brain could put words together.

Phichit was right. A dip in the onsen sounded heavenly, leaving him nostalgic as he began taking off his shirt. Even that motion sent a jolt from his shoulders down to his hips. Taking off his pants might be torture.

“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri started, “you can stay. Maybe bring your laptop in for a show or something?”

“Alright,” Phichit agreed readily, “I’ll be right back with it, then.”

Yuuri took the opportunity to pull at the drawstrings of his sweatpants and let them fall to the ground with minimal effort. He was glad he kept those around from times when he had been bigger. They were one of the only pairs that were loose enough to still slide over his ass without intervention. The boxers he wore were a little tighter, but eventually they fell to the floor as well. He stepped out of them and eased himself into the bathtub.

It was scalding hot, but not quite approaching death at hell’s gate. Perfect.

Yuuri breathed in, his back end sinking to the bottom of the tub and resting at an angle that didn’t hurt as much. The heat sapped the tension from his muscles and parts of himself he hadn’t been sure he could feel before— which was astonishing considering his years as a ballet dancer— and with a loud exhale, he let his thoughts rise out of his head with the steam.

Phichit came back in, the _Friends_ theme song echoing off the walls before he paused it. He grabbed a nearby stool and set up the laptop before kneeling himself beside Yuuri outside the tub. Setting Yuuri’s tea on the sink counter and looking back to see if that was okay, Phichit’s expression changed. He whistled appreciatively.

“Does Vitya have a biting kink?” Phichit asked, abandoning a gesture to Yuuri’s exposed neck.

“Phichit!” Yuuri instinctively slapped his hand to his neck, wincing as the bruise stung. He’d nearly forgotten the way Vitya had clamped his lips down as he came, sealed them shut against Yuuri’s skin, wet and warm and smooth, his teeth terribly sharp.

Phichit laughed. “So you’re not entirely out of it, that’s good.”

“He just got carried away,” Yuuri murmured, his voice trailing off.

“It looks like it,” Phichit commented, leaning his body into the tub as they spoke, the laptop temporarily forgotten. “Is he as good as he makes it look on camera?”

Yuuri’s eyes flitted to Phichit’s for a brief moment of contemplation. Either the Advil was kicking in or the water that Phichit filled the tub with was magical, because he felt more at ease than he had the entire morning.

“Was it bad?” Phichit prompted.

“N-No, it was fine,” Yuuri began, but soon changed his mind when he received that knowing glare, “good. It was really good. You know, minus the whole thing taking three hours.”

Phichit smirked. “Yeah, well, that’s how all shoots go. They really cut out a lot in editing. Apparently perfect shots for the right length of time are hard to capture. Or the camera workers _really_ like watching.”

Yuuri’s nod was small, weary, and without missing a beat Phichit unpaused the episode. As soon as the first lyrics were sung, both boys had their hands up high and waiting. At the section they knew so well, they clapped along and chuckled to themselves, an unspoken ritual whenever they watched it together. Although sometimes Yuuri heard Phichit clapping alone at three in the morning.

They were about five minutes into the episode, the water now more pleasantly hot and less skin-searing, when Yuuri tried to shift his weight in a more comfortable manner. Which didn’t work. A bolt of pain shot up his spine and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yuuri?” Phichit piped up, body tensing and ready to spring.

Yuuri held a hand up to show that he was fine, resettling to a position marginally better. “Does it always hurt this bad for you?”

Phichit scratched the back of his head as he thought. “Yeah, sometimes. That’s sorta subjective. If I film with Chris I usually don't do a full shoot for another day or so.”

“That big?” Yuuri joked.

“Huge,” Phichit held his hands apart in a not-so-subtle attempt to guess the actor’s size, leaving Yuuri’s mind to wonder how Chris compared to Vitya, “but at least he knows how to use—”

“You know what? Forget I asked.”

Phichit thankfully took the hint and returned his attention to the episode. They watched in relative silence, giggling or forcefully exhaling through their nose at Chandler’s antics or Rachel’s naivete. But it didn’t take long, even in his slower than normal current mental pace, for Yuuri to feel a little odd about the situation he was becoming fully aware of.

“I feel weird being the only one naked in the bathtub,” Yuuri stated.

Phichit’s head shifted in a quick, short burst, almost a startle. He paused the episode and turned to face Yuuri. “I mean, I could join you, if that helps in any way.”

Yuuri shrugged. “It might make conversation easier.”

“Not feeling the episode?”

“It’s not that. N-Not really,” Yuuri admitted. He was still thinking about the fact that he sucked Vitya’s cock and choked on it not once, but _twice_ , and nearly puked on set. And Vitya never batted an eyelash, never asked if he was okay, nothing. No reaction at all. It was something he couldn’t think about on his own, and he preferred a more face-to-face approach when talking about himself, especially with Phichit. Only with Phichit. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

Phichit nodded slowly, thinking it over. “If it helps you get things off your chest, I don’t mind.”

When Phichit stood up, it registered to Yuuri that water was clear, and that Phichit could very much see everything Yuuri had to offer beneath the surface. He’d just been naked with twenty people surrounding him, this shouldn’t matter. But there was something about being spent and tired and so vulnerable that had him worrying. He covered himself for modesty’s sake, probably a bit too late.

“I... um,” Yuuri lowered his eyes, hoping Phichit understood.

Outside of Yuuri’s vision, he heard Phichit shuffle over and open a cabinet. There were some noises of containers being pushed around, pills rattling in bottles, and the sliding of the medicine cabinet doors. When he knelt at the side of the tub, he held out a dark blue sphere, his eyes promising not to leave Yuuri’s. “How about a bath bomb? We won’t be able to see through and it’ll be like we’re wearing our swimming trunks underneath. We’ll be able to enjoy our marathon sin-free.”

A smile broke out on Yuuri’s face, to which Phichit answered with: “There we go, that’s the Katsuki Smile I was looking for.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuuri shook his head, still smiling.

“An idiot armed with a bath bomb,” Phichit amended coyly. “Do you need anything else before we unpause? Hot towels? Your tea? The key to my heart? Incense?”

Yuuri let out a small laugh, but pointed to his tea anyway. Phichit handed it over carefully with a bowing flourish. Grateful, Yuuri took a sip and hummed in appreciation. There was a drop of honey spooned into it, just the way he liked it.

It wasn’t the first time ever Yuuri had thought this, but it was definitely the first time that day: Phichit was an amazing best friend.

He looked on as Phichit dropped the ball into the water and watched it begin to fizz and dissipate. Yuuri focused on the way it spun, shrinking smaller and smaller, producing bubbles and swirls of dark blue that bled across the tub until it was completely saturated. By the time the bath bomb had completely disappeared, he saw Phichit entering the tub in the corner of his vision. He kept his eyes low until Phichit was situated.

It wasn’t that they weren’t comfortable with each other. Quite the opposite, if late night tickle fights in their boxers before exams the next morning counted for anything. But they had never been naked together, and those nights had been way before Yuuri even knew that Phichit worked as a pornstar.

Well, they were both pornstars now, weren’t they?

Phichit unpaused the episode, an unspoken signal that it was okay to proceed as they had before. He was sitting opposite Yuuri, but in the small tub, their shins and toes brushed each other occasional. Not enough to be distracting, but enough to ground Yuuri in the moment, to help him focus on something that wasn’t going to drown him in another panic like this morning.

The characters on screen in their coffee shop were doing their own thing. It was normal, routine, relaxed. The fake studio audience laughter cued jokes, and Phichit and Yuuri either laughed along or hummed amusement and shook their heads at the occasional dated joke. Perhaps something serious happened, or semi-serious, but it was resolved. They were onto the next episode, clapping like before, when Yuuri realized the water had become lukewarm and the bath bomb’s suds had faded out, diluting the colors.

He thought about mentioning getting out, but then a scene came up. A character’s new date had hiked up his shorts and another was gaping and gawking, looking away but also not able to at the same time, disgusted and astounded. Phichit and Yuuri both chuckled.

“How huge can he be?” Phichit asked curiously, eyes not really leaving the screen.

Yuuri smirked, the action easier after so long in the tub. “Poor guy can’t help it. I’m sure it works fine.”

“Yeah,” Phichit agreed, “in bed.”

Not in the mood to argue, Yuuri hummed noncommittally. “Sure.”

Phichit’s eyes gravitated toward Yuuri with a devilish grin. “Are you saying you like big dicks?”

Yuuri pretended to think about it, made a gesture downwards. “I mean, it kinda hurts after, but definitely isn’t awful.”

Chuckling, Phichit pressed on the issue. “Say, how big is Vitya? And don't tell me you don't know.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, but began shaking his head. It wasn’t like he whipped out a measuring tape in the middle of a sex scene just to record quantifiable data on his partner’s genitals. It also wasn’t like he stalked Vitya’s social media accounts for stats, at least not for a few years. Surely that number couldn’t have changed, right? Still, he didn’t have a good idea on the number, but it certainly _felt_ like it was over seven inches, maybe even eight or nine easily. “Big enough to warrant this much attention from my roommate, apparently.”

“You were limping, Yuuri,” Phichit pointed out. “Just hope that Yakov doesn’t make you film like that every time—”

Phichit’s eyes widened, he gasped, and slapped Yuuri’s knee that was above the surface of the water, caught up in his own excitement.

“—Your birthday's coming up!” Phichit was already counting the days in his head. “You should ask Yakov to have that off. You don’t want to be limping on your day off— or do you?” Phichit’s eyebrows waggled.

“Still a better birthday present than yours,” Yuuri remarked.

“Oh,” Phichit clasped his hands together, an altogether bad sign that he was scheming, “I should start researching soon. I wonder which kind I should get this time—”

“Not this year, Phichit,” the dread crept into Yuuri’s voice.

“Yes this year, Phichit. You're not getting out of it just because you've been with the real deal. I'll make sure it's super creative this year. Maybe I'll show them to Vitya for advice—”

“Phichit!” Yuuri leaned forward, water sloshing across Phichit’s chest and chin, the leftover suds creating a modest beard still better than anything either of them could grow. Clearly knowing how it must look, Phichit wiped it off, but left a streak of dark blue water droplets across his chin. Yuuri’s desperate demeanor shifted, cracked, and then finally they were both laughing.

“Okay, okay,” Phichit said as his giggle subsided, “fine. Different topic. Are you gonna keep filming with him?”

Yuuri was taken aback, retreating to his spot at the other end of the tub. “I-Is that up to me?”

Phichit took a moment, formulating words in his mind. “If it were, would you stay?”

“I can't keep him to myself,” Yuuri cast his eyes downward, guilty. That couldn’t be a decision he would be allowed to make. Porn didn’t work like that.

Instead of some sympathetic statement or even a solemn nod, Phichit barked a short laugh, causing Yuuri’s head to snap up. “Yuuri,” Phichit put his hands firmly on Yuuri’s knees, shaking them to make sure he was paying attention, “he films like two times a day every day. I’d be surprised if there was a time a day he _wasn’t_ filming. If he's not filming with you he's definitely filming with someone else. You aren't stopping him from filming with other people by choosing to keep filming with him.”

And on some level, Yuuri understood that. He really did. But there was a part of him, the same part of him that loved the thrill of beating his competition, that believed he could have Vitya for himself. It was unfounded and animalistic and often times Yuuri was able to suppress those feelings. It was a selfish and dangerous way to involve himself with an industry he wanted no entry into in the first place. He just had to make the best of it while he was there.

Except he didn’t know how long that was going to be. He hadn’t also been looking for more serious jobs in his spare time. Or rather, jobs that didn’t involve the use of his cock directly or indirectly. Regardless, something kept him coming back. Something irrational, something he couldn’t place. And as much as he wanted to figure that out and cut the cord, he also liked the game it presented.

Yuuri was pulled back from his thoughts when Phichit stood up suddenly, the episode now over and the laptop lid closed.

“The water’s cold, Yuuri,” Phichit complained, “and we look like pruny old men. Time to get out, c’mon.”

Yuuri allowed Phichit to coax him out of the tub and hand him a towel. The towels had been set atop the radiator, and thanks to the building’s heating system, had been warmed up. Yuuri’s eyelids fluttered shut as he took a deep breath and let the warmth of the towel replace the chilled air.

Once they had gone back to their rooms and redressed, they met back in the living room and discussed their plans for the rest of the day. Phichit was debating canceling so that they could hang out longer, but Yuuri shunned the idea because, hey, he was feeling a lot better and everything Phichit had done helped tremendously. Phichit could reward himself by going out tonight, if that made him feel better about it.

So when Phichit finally left, Yuuri checked his phone for the first time, considering he had left it plugged in on his nightstand today. As he took out the charger and lit up the screen, he noted that there were several messages from his sister. A lot of them were reminding him of their weekly Skype call, a fact which Yuuri had completely forgotten about. He calculated the time difference and hoped Mari would answer.

She did, thankfully, but she looked like death hauled in a new hire. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced in the camera’s grainy quality and the cigarette between her lips was burning bright at the tip, freshly lit.

“ _Do you know what time it is, little brother?_ ” Mari’s Japanese sounded more peeved than normal.

“Sorry, Mari,” Yuuri scratched the back of his head, “I lost track.”

Mari raised an eyebrow, then a ball of brown fluff came into the frame and she had to angle her chin up sharply to avoid collision. Vicchan barked. “ _You? Lose track of when you could talk to Vicchan again? That’s unlike you._ ”

Yuuri had nothing positive to say to that without revealing _why_ he hadn’t called. “Well, I figured everyone was up to get the inn ready for the day. Am I wrong?”

Mari blew smoke from the corner of her mouth. “ _You’re not wrong. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen. I just finished doing_ your _old chores._ ”

“Thank you, Mari!” Yuuri chirped, then cooed small praises to his dog from thousands of miles away. Vicchan wagged his tail against Mari’s work apron and under her chin, causing her to swipe it away once or twice with a wry smile.

“ _Say,_ ” Mari sucked a long drag on her cigarette, the orange glowing brighter for an instant, “ _d’you know when you’re done school? I know the American system’s different. The parents wanna know when you’ll be back home. And you know Mom, she’ll cook you all the katsudon you can pig out on. I’m sure she’s already stockpiled supplies._ ”

Yuuri paused. It was a question similar to all of the others he had been escaped from answering Phichit, his landlord, and himself. But Mari, even halfway around the world, would have his head if he didn’t answer her straight-forward.

“Uh, well, you see...” he could still stumble through and hope for the best.

“ _Either you have the degree now or you don’t, little brother,_ ” Mari quipped, “ _which is it?_ ”

Yuuri sighed. No way out of this one. “I’ve got it. Uh, this semester, that is,” he fibbed, biting his lip.

Mari regarded him silently, flicking the butt of her cigarette behind one of the bushes. Their parents would kill her if they saw that, but it wasn’t like there were witnesses at the exact scene. “ _Alright. So that means you’ll be here for New Years, right? Free of work that isn’t at the inn for the holiday, then what? Work at Minako’s? I’m sure she’d love to have you there as an instructor. If you’re not competing anymore, that is._ ”

Ah. Right. The whole “actually, I’m a pornstar now” thing might not be the best explanation. But pornstars didn’t last very long nowadays, did they? Leaving early might not be out of the question. And returning home after so many years sounded like such a relief, a rush of fresh air, that the consideration was tempting.

And yet, there was that same something, that same hand holding his shoulder and preventing him from walking across a busy street. The hand of a tall person that could see the dangers he couldn’t and was acting accordingly without letting him in on it. Leaving him a blind little child obstructed by the views of other drivers.

Was it his ballet career? Yuuri was pretty sure that had been flushed down the toilet at his last big competition. He ignored the stage ever since, but that didn’t mean ballet wasn’t still his lifeblood. Any chance he got to practice again, or even just workout, was enough of a pull to draw him in again. But he doubted he was clinging to Detroit for chances at reviving that part of himself professionally.

Of course, there was the obvious thing: filming with Vitya. Call him selfish, but he wouldn’t mind continuing that for a little while. If Vitya was willing to keep filming with him in turn, Yuuri couldn’t find a reason to say no.

Well, he could. The sex wasn’t awful, far from it, but it wasn’t ideal. Of course, porn wasn’t ideal, realistic, or any other synonym. He knew that. But Vitya’s distant behavior paired with decent sex made both sides of the coin hard to call.

Perhaps the hand that held him back was holding his hand as well.

Mari cleared her throat. “ _Are you competing again?_ ”

“Ah— no, no, no,” Yuuri hastened his answer, “I’m just thinking.”

“ _I can see that,_ ” Mari noted, eyeing him knowingly, “ _you always get that weird look in your eyes when you’re thinking of an answer. Just tell me when you’re gonna be home, you brat. I wanna roughhouse with my little brother again_.”

Yuuri nodded, at which point he heard the faint slide of the onsen doors opening and then suddenly his mother was in the frame. Yuuri ran through the same apologies he had with Mari and chatted with them until the inn was about to open. His mother expressed her eagerness to see him again in person, and recounted the same for his father, bringing a sad smile to Yuuri’s face. They wished him luck and love and bid him farewell, smiling with their eyes closed as the call ended.

The living room was so silent.

Sighing, Yuuri tapped on his contacts and began ringing his landlord to let him know what had been decided.

* * *

The weekend had been uneventful, laundry was done and surfaces were cleared and dusted and all the other mundane cleaning tasks were completed. Yuuri helped Phichit with dinner one night and they switched the next. They swapped their stories, shot the breeze with tales both old and new, not caring if they had already heard it before. It didn’t matter; Yuuri was feeling better and brightening up, the mixed emotions from the previous Friday fading into the back of his mind, and eventually disappearing almost completely.

Yuuri confided in Phichit the paycheck he had received, and even Phichit went bug-eyed. He demanded viewing the check for himself, and when Yuuri provided, Phichit had nothing to say. Nothing, apart from the hope that maybe _he_ should film with Vitya next. Because _damn_ he was missing out.

After receiving an email from Yakov for his and Vitya’s next filming slot early next week, Yuuri joked that Phichit could take over for him if his ass was still a wreck. Phichit glanced over the email for himself to see.

_Yuuri-_

_Your first full film with Vitya has been finalized and uploaded to be viewed at anytime if you wish to review it for yourself. Attached is a list of notes about the process. If you have any questions, please feel free to meet with me._

“Wow,” Phichit breathed, “they never edit that fast. Must be the entire world missed Vitya’s full performances.”

Yuuri blushed, but it was more from disappointment than embarrassment. “He did say he canceled all of his other films while I was still training.”

Phichit side-eyed him before reading on. “Training?”

Yuuri zipped his mouth shut and read on.

 _Your next film’s script is attached below. I would like to ask in advance that if you have a preferred toy other than what is listed in the script, please bring it. The studio’s collection may not have what you are looking for, and we would rather you have a fall-back plan rather than use something you are not accustomed to. Ideally, bring something that will be able to stand on its own. Whatever bells and whistles it has is of no concern to the studio._  
_We look forward to seeing you next week._  
_Best,_ _  
_ SV Studios

_P.S. Please note the special instructions in the beginning of the script. Filming time has been shortened so all precautions must take place._

“Lemme look at the script,” Phichit said as he stole the computer off of Yuuri’s lap before Yuuri could actually respond. His eyes roamed back and forth over the document, a grin slowly creeping onto his face. “Oh, you’ll have a blast.”

And as Yuuri stood outside the recording room door holding his dildo with the wide, suctioning base in his clammy hands and his glass plug in his ass, he was thinking, not for the first nor last time, that Phichit was the worst best friend ever.

Having read the script over and over without any help from Vitya— who hadn’t even texted him the entire weekend, so it wasn’t like Yuuri could have asked for practice this time— Yuuri was determined to not let his anxiety get to him again. He had already made his decision. Anything about this job would come secondary.

That was what Phichit had said, at least. Yuuri had to put faith in him, because Phichit put so much faith in him that if felt rude not to reciprocate.

He wouldn’t let a detached Vitya get him down.

 _Go get ‘im, sexy,_ Phichit had catcalled him before Yuuri left that morning.

“I am sexy,” Yuuri whispered encouragingly to himself as he braced for what he would find on the other side of this door with the bright recording light above.

The doorknob turned, and opened up to a concrete floor set with fashion racks on wheels and wardrobes opened up with costumes spilling out. There were people with headsets and pocket batteries and cameras on tripods that focused on a desk and a small ottoman set up in front of a set of mirrors. Each piece of equipment was kept out of shot from the mirrors, probably for good reason.

Yuuri blanched. He didn’t know there were going to be mirrors for this. They weren’t in the script.

A lot of things weren’t ever in the script. He should have known to expect something like this. Or expect something weird. Or just never expect anything at all.

He certainly didn’t expect a tall body in a three piece suit to be knocking into him. Startled, Yuuri glanced upward as his eyes landed on that familiar silver hair he tried not to think about over the weekend. Underneath the fringe, Viktor was wearing dark sunglasses. Indoors.

“Oh, sorry—” Viktor paused in the doorway, shifting his weight to another foot, clad in what looked like an expensive leather shoe, his sunglasses making it hard to figure out where he was looking, “—Yuuri. You’re here. With a standing dildo.”

Yuuri glanced down, somehow shocked to find he still had the toy held out in front of him from his motivational speech. He thought about hiding it behind his back, but realized it would have to be seen sooner or later and it _was_ work-related. He shouldn’t be ashamed to have it with him.

Besides, he had to show Vitya that he could handle this. Show Vitya a good time while he still could.

“Yeah,” Yuuri traced a finger over its silicone ridges, flesh colored and pretty lifelike if he did say so himself, “it’s from my _personal_ collection.” His eyes flirted back upward, through his lashes, right at Vitya.

Whether Viktor was reacting or not, Yuuri couldn’t see due to the sunglasses. After a moment, Viktor nodded, his lips staying ever the tight line. “That’s nice,” came out curt, falling short from his lips.

Yuuri hadn’t anticipated that response. He had expected some flirty quip back, something that was continuing from where they had left off— not with the awkward goodbye but with the flirty wave and the jokes they had shared in between shots from all their shoots before— but he received nothing. Yuuri ducked his head and walked past Viktor, red beginning to bloom on his cheeks.

“Ah, Yuuri—” Viktor started.

“Yuuri!” Mila pounced like a tiger hidden from prey’s sight, already stealing the dildo right out of Yuuri’s hands. “Is this yours? I bet Vitya’s already jealous. Anyway, I can take this over to the set hands. They’ll know where to keep this until you’re in the spotlight,” she said with a wink before dragging him with her.

When he looked back to see what it was that Viktor wanted to say, the man was already gone.

Yuuri gave up the reins and allowed Mila to shuttle him around the set, from undressing and robing over to the makeup chairs and Georgi’s talents, and back around to the fashion racks to pick a rather unassuming outfit compared to the sparkles and sequins and mesh and spandex that littered practically every other space in the room. Before he put it on, though, Mila sat him down in a chair, unknowingly jostling the plug inside him, proceeded by grabbing her own seat in front of him. What he thought was going to become a fluffing session became a rather sudden one-on-one he hadn’t been anticipating.

“Hey,” she started, her voice sweet and gentle, “are you okay, hun? Last week you looked a little pale.”

Yuuri was still trying to piece together how the set was supposed to play out, running lines through his head while mentally simulating his movements like he did before every ballet performance. The only difference was he wouldn’t be dancing here. Wearing a leotard-like costume, yes, but not dancing in it, that was for sure.

Well, unless it could be considered an erotic interpretive dance.

Shaking his head, Yuuri sighed. “I’m fine, Mila. Just nerves from it being a first time kind of thing, you know?”

Mila nodded, her eyes drooping understandingly. “I had something like that when I first filmed. You feel kinda used, right?”

The memory of unease prickled over his skin, the familiar disengagement clogging up his throat. He agreed silently, forcing it back.

Mila leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing personal. Just how it’s done. Trust me, I don’t think Viktor would leave that easily if there weren’t cameras around.”

Yuuri was about to ask what she meant, why she would even say something strange like that, when Vitya came up to them, still wearing that dark gray suit that made him look handsome and smart— more so than he already was, as far as Yuuri was concerned. He found it a little harder to breathe, like Vitya’s piercing gaze cut off his lungs’ air supply and nothing would be able to resuscitate him if Vitya came any closer.

“Mila,” Vitya said, “Ethie said he won’t need a fluffer for this scene and to work on camera three’s placements. Sara’s already done her part so she’s in the break room.”

Mila sighed dramatically, standing up from her chair. “ _Fine_ , okay. I’ll get right to that,” she said as she started walking toward the door.

“Mila,” Vitya ordered, “camera. _Then_ break room make out session.”

Mila spun around with a pout on her face. “Sure thing, _Yakov_.”

Vitya pursed his lips but didn’t respond to the comment. Instead, he turned to Yuuri. “We can keep to the plot part of the script, but I’m changing it once we get started. You know what the scene was meant for, right?”

Yuuri had a couple ideas.

“Just don’t bite my dick off again, okay?” Vitya tipped his sunglasses then, winking with a cheap and dirty smile.

“Just be a better teacher,” Yuuri quipped back, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he bit on them nervously.

The only sign of a reaction was Vitya slipping his shades back on, smile disappearing, and the small line of his adam’s apple bobbing once. Soon Georgi was calling Vitya over for his last minute touch up and Yuuri was left alone again.

One breath in. Hold. One breath out. Yuuri twisted in his seat until the plug rubbed the right spot. He shuddered, wanting more, but it would have to be enough for now.

Time to put on a show.

* * *

Eros walked into the store wearing a pair of gym sweats and swinging a skate bag over his shoulder. Yuuri, underneath it all, struggling to be serious, was performing the best air of nonchalance he could muster. He pushed it down when he saw the silver head of hair look up from his spot at the front desk.

“Good morning and welcome to HM Dickfitters. How may I help you today?”

“Yes, hi, I’m Eros and— wait,” Eros took a step back, wondering if he had gone into the wrong building. “Dickfitters? Is that really the name here?”

The man sighed, lifting an eyebrow without taking off his sunglasses. He was wearing an expensive suit. There was no way a man of that caliber in _that_ suit worked at a place called _Dickfitters_ . “It’s a surname, sir. See?” He pointed to a golden placard with white letters stenciled into it: _Mr. Dickfitters._

“Mr. Dickfitters?” Eros asked, shadows of doubt casting on his face.

“That’s Vitya Dickfitters to you, Eros,” the man gently corrected, a small smile on his face. “But we here at HM Dickfitters pride ourselves on our hospitality, so please, call me Vitya.”

With a last name like that, no wonder he preferred being on a first name basis. “Oh, okay. Well, I need a skating outfit for an upcoming competition. I ice skate, you see—”

“Come right this way,” was Vitya’s quick response as he stood, walking around the desk and gesturing to rows of outfits. Eros followed him over to the fashion racks.

“What kind of outfit are you looking for, Eros?” Vitya leaned against the rack, the clothes sliding slightly from the wheels underneath. He caught himself and stood upright.

Eros glanced to the sides to make sure cameras weren’t aimed at his face, because he couldn’t stifle the grin that popped onto it. He stopped when he saw that Vitya’s face hadn’t changed.

“What’s your theme?” Vitya insisted.

Right. Acting. “Hmm,” Eros put a finger to his lips and cocked his hips to the side, purposefully, “something sensual. Sexy.”

Vitya sifted through the pieces, pausing to tap at a piece of black fabric. “I think we have just the thing. Would you like to try it on?”

What Vitya pulled off the rack had Yuuri’s mind screaming, nearly causing Eros to cry out. Not that it was hideous, no, far from it. This was quite, _quite_ the opposite.

The entire costume was a tight spandex bodysuit, one arm ending in a fingerless glove and the other a thin mesh, ending in a similar style. A good half of the costume used that mesh, in fact. Scattered across the mesh shoulder along a strip of black fabric were sewn-in crystals that sparkled from the shop’s fluorescent lights with every microscopic movement, dazzling him. The same crystals lined the v of the hips, where an ombre fabric flared out like a skirt around one leg, a flash of sinful red underneath.

It certainly looked like what Eros was describing.

“Sure.”

Vitya’s mouth pulled into a knowing smile. “The dressing area is right over here,” he pointed Eros to the area with three giant mirrors and a stool. “I’ll stay close just to make sure you can get the costume on right.”

Eros took the hanger from Vitya, their fingers brushing lightly, intentional on Eros’s part. Still no reaction.

Yuuri’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. This wasn’t like last time. Last time he could see those steely blue eyes and other notions of arousal. Here he was garnering nothing.

Eros huffed a breath, facing away from Vitya and pulling his gym shirt over his head to expose the muscles of his back as they shifted under his skin. He tossed it aside and tucked his thumbs under his waistband, slowly bending over as he pulled the pants off, exposing the glass plug between his cheeks. The air that rushed between his legs was refreshing, the dried lube around his ass and thighs feeling cool. From behind him there was a soft breath, nearly a gasp but more controlled.

Yuuri tried to focus on it, to wiggle and tease further, until he heard a cameraperson walk up to him, the mechanical zoom echoing in his ears. Eros breathed out, taking his sweet time pulling his feet out of their shoes and out of his discarded pant legs, letting the camera capture any angle it wanted of the see-through glass. Before he stood back up to step into the costume, he let a hand trace up his inner thigh, inching closer until he nudged the toy, humming at the shifting sensation. He bit his lip to hide the noise, trying to listen for some sign from Vitya.

When nothing happened, Yuuri slipped into the costume and started the diagonal zipper. “I think I’m done.”

It was then that Vitya finally stepped forward, the heat of his body so close to Eros’s but not quite touching. He took the zipper from Eros and brought it all the way up, clipping the last piece into place.

“It’s very form-fitting, Eros,” Vitya stage whispered into his ear, hands now on his hips, pressing against the fabric. “It looks good on you.”

Eros lifted his head to look at their reflection in the mirror. The costume, paired with his dark eyes and darker, slicked-back hair made him look far more sexy than he felt. Although that slowly began to change with the way Vitya’s suit pushed into his back, the texture rubbing against the mesh and teasing what it could reach of his skin. Eros watched the way Vitya’s hands formed trails as fingers dug into the costume, gliding over his hips, around his abs, up near his chest, and felt that familiar warmth simmer in his gut. They looked good together, Vitya standing over him, curling around him in silent worship, and Eros standing tall, commanding. _Confident_.

Yuuri wondered if he could keep up that facade, because this was the first positive action he had seen Vitya take all day.

“I think I want to buy it,” Eros spoke up, letting Vitya know he was crossing a line. That Eros was the customer and, after all, the customer was always right.

Vitya straightened himself out and cleared his throat. “What payment type will that be, sir? Cash? Credit? Check? Blowjob?”

“I think I’ll pay with— wait, what was that last one?” Eros asked.

Vitya tipped his head to the side, innocent in his question. “Check?”

“No, no, no,” Eros shook his head. “You said I could pay with a blowjob?”

Vitya’s sunglasses slipped down his nose, showing his eyes as they roamed around the room leisurely, shrugging. “Only if you’re good at it,” he said, pushing the pair back up his nose.

Eros realized he couldn’t find his wallet. He must have forgotten it at home. “Well, I’ve never done this before so,” he drew out the syllable as he stepped up into Vitya’s personal space and cupped the man’s jaw, shaven clean, “you’ll have to teach me.”

“Just tack it onto your bill when we’re done,” Vitya answered smoothly after a moment, his jaw moving— quivering— underneath Eros’s fingers.

Eros had been about to drop to his knees when his brain registered what Vitya said. “I thought this was payment?”

Vitya snaked an arm around Eros, pulling them flush together with a hand cupping his ass, digging into where the plug shifted. Eros couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped his lips. “Depends on how well you listen.”

The scene was cut then, things moved around, bottles put on set out of sight of the cameras, all like clockwork, even though Yakov wasn’t present. Yuuri could at least feel at ease knowing that he wasn’t being evaluated for the sake of keeping his job. He had been doing well so far, and Vitya was slightly more responsive, although he wished those damn sunglasses could come off. He needed Vitya to look at him, to tell him he was doing it right without a word.

Yuuri’s dildo was propped onto the ottoman, standing proud. Someone else had already slicked it with an extra dollop of lube in anticipation of the scene for time’s sake. They really didn’t have a lot of time slotted for this shoot, did they?

Yuuri went about unzipping a separate compartment of the costume that Vitya pointed out to him. Meanwhile, the older man was freeing himself from the zipper of his own suit pants for the fluffer. Yuuri walked away to a corner for some semblance of privacy for both of them so that he could slip the plug out. He was wiping it off on a paper towel that someone handed him before it was then taken somewhere else while he went back to set. Walking felt weird now, the empty feeling inside him inducing a need to be filled.

A camerawoman came up to him then, a question in her eyes. “Eros?”

Eros was next the ottoman, grateful to look away from something so personal being in a space so public. “Hm?”

“Hi, I’m one of the regular camera workers, Ethie. Nice to meet you,” she extended a hand nervously. Eros took it. “So, we’re running a little short for time. I was thinking we should skip the dialogue that brings up the— the toy, but we’re still going to have you ride it, okay? Um, Vitya’s just going to talk you through it like he will the— well, you know. Sound good?”

Eros knit his brows, wondering how the story would remain continuous, but then again, not a lot of porn kept a continuous plot line, let alone actually had a plot line in the first place. So he let it go. He nodded and the camerawoman positioned her camera behind him and the ottoman instead.

The sea of people settled down and they were given the signal. The cameras whirred to life and it was their spotlight once again.

“Please, Eros,” Vitya directed Eros outside the shot, “take a seat right there.”

“Right here?” Eros asked, already sliding the dildo between his ass cheeks, still covered by the erotic costume. “You want me to sit here so that my ass can be full while sucking your cock?”

“You know it,” Vitya answered, his hand coming into the shot to steady the dildo, putting more resistance against Eros’s hole. “I want you to feel nice and relaxed for this, okay? Go on, sit on it for me,” his voice dropped low, sultry.

Yuuri knew that as long as he didn’t look at Vitya’s face, still hidden by sunglasses, he wouldn’t have to second guess himself. Based off of his voice alone, he could tell Vitya was interested. But he knew that if he looked, he would see that stoic face, and it would kill the mood he had made up in his mind to combat it.

So he pushed the dildo inside, felt the silicone head squeeze past the ring of muscle, felt the ridges as they stretched him further than the plug had done before. When he was fully seated, he canted his hips, getting a feel for how much he could move, where he was able to be touched. Satisfied, he nodded in silent cue for the scene to continue.

Vitya turned about to face him, his hard, pale dick in stunning contrast to the grey surrounding it. A camera spun to capture them from the side.

It looked bigger than the first time Eros had it in his face. But he had been riding a low pleasure ride since putting in that plug, and his head was clearer than it had been during their first film. Whether this was good or bad, he wasn’t sure. He just had to listen to what Vitya told him to do.

They were parallel with the mirror, meaning that if Eros wanted to, he could glance at the mirror on his side and watch. Something he was definitely going to do, even if just as validation that he was in fact sucking a pornstar’s dick.

Hopefully it turned out better than the first time.

“Open your mouth,” Vitya instructed, “and keep your tongue flat.”

Eros did just that, and was immediately met by the weight of flesh on his tongue. He wanted to go for it but he held back.

“Now,” Vitya threaded a hand through Eros’s hair, firm, “lick around the head. Get it really wet, okay?”

Eros did just that, annoyed that he was being instructed how to do a simple blowjob. It was _deepthroating_ that he didn’t know how to do. Why waste time here? The roll of his tongue coated the head, enough saliva gathering to rival the amount of water from that hot tub. If Vitya wanted wet, he was going to get it.

“Yeah,” Vitya sighed for the camera, “that’s good. Now lick the base— don’t miss my balls.”

Eros gripped the base and pushed Vitya’s erection up before leaning forward, the dildo dragging against his walls. He closed his eyes in appreciation, allowing his tongue to play around at the base, shaved just as close as Vitya’s face was. He curled around Vitya’s balls, rolling one into his mouth. Yuuri hadn’t ever done this before. Playing with balls, whether his or his partners’, never added much pleasure. It was just another sensation for the sake of sensations. Regardless, he paid it as much attention as he felt necessary, slowly licking and sucking small wet kisses up the underside of Vitya’s dick.

“Good,” Vitya praised, “good so far. Now take my head back in and take me in until you get to your throat, okay?”

Eros thought about it, then ignored Vitya’s instructions. What he usually did for his other partners was pay attention to all sides, kissing his way up reverently. When he continued to do so, he thought he heard Vitya cutting off a sigh. Then the hand in his hair gripped hard and tugged. Yuuri’s mouth popped off, still open when Vitya’s cock was unceremoniously shoved inside.

“Do you want me to raise your bill?” Vitya asked testily, sunglasses hiding his emotions both fake and real.

Eros tried to answer, but it was muffled by the cock in his mouth. His lips were wrapped tight around it, which left little room for conversation. So much for being in control a moment ago.

Taking his mumbling as pleasant agreement, Vitya smirked. “Good. I’ll move your head for you, okay? Just keep that tongue moving. I won’t make you deepthroat just yet.”

Eros nodded, the head of Vitya’s dick sliding against the ridges in the roof of his mouth. Vitya breathed in sharp, but otherwise remained still. There was a gentle press of Eros’s head forward, to which Eros obliged. When it came to hitting the back of his throat, Vitya then pulled him back, almost pulling out completely, and repeated it.

They set a rhythm, Vitya letting moans tumble from his lips in a measured pace. They sounded pretty convincing, so much so to the point that Yuuri wasn’t sure whether they were real or for the camera. If he had to guess based on Vitya’s behavior today, he would say they were definitely fake. Maybe all of this was fake. Then again, Vitya _was_ remaining hard. Something had to be working.

Eros swirled his tongue around the bottom, across the top, over the head, pressed harder onto the slit and the ridges. Never in the same pattern, always changing. He brushed it against the side of his cheek, letting it glide smoothly now that Vitya was slowing down.

“I’m going to press a little further, Eros,” Vitya warned, “try to relax and suppress that gag reflex, okay? Ignore it and breathe.”

Eros took a deep breath and let his jaw go slack. This much he knew how to do. He was positive he could keep six inches down for an instant no problem. It was keeping it there or even pushing further in that would be his downfall.

His tongue lay flat as Vitya’s hips came forward, Vitya’s hand still in his hair and holding him in place. When Vitya’s cock met the back of Eros’s throat, he felt the familiar closing sensation and pushed back against it.

“Take in a long breath, Eros,” Vitya suggested, “it will keep your throat open. Keep breathing once I’m in deep.”

Eros began inhaling, feeling the walls of his throat open up slightly. Vitya pushed further then, and Eros had to knit his brows in concentration so that he didn’t try and bite down. As soon as the urge became too much, Vitya pulled out completely.

“There,” Vitya said, “not so bad. Show me what you can do, Eros.”

Eros still couldn’t tell if Vitya was looking at him, but he had to be. The shades were just hiding his eyes, not completely taking away his vision. Eros just had to show him something worthy of staring at.

He took Vitya’s cock back into his mouth, pushing his tongue farther out to lick down the length that he couldn’t get to. Satisfied that it would work, Eros gripped Vitya’s hips and slowly took him further. There was a long sigh that came from above him, louder than before, and it was admittedly encouraging.

Eros hoped it was a real one.

This time he took a bit more in, taking that breath and forcing himself to keep his throat open. Occasionally, his throat muscles spasmed, and it hurt, it hurt _a lot_ , but those were the times that Vitya moaned louder. So he pulled off and did it again, the sting a little easier with the anticipation.

They continued for what seemed like forever, Eros varying it up as much as he could without—

Well, okay, he choked out once or twice. Had a close enough call to warrant several set hands to come closer with aid just in case. But he didn’t bite. That was the main goal of this shoot, wasn’t it?

Yakov wouldn’t fire him. Not yet.

But his jaw was starting to hurt more and more, the muscles tiring. He pulled off and shook his head. “I— I can’t.”

Vitya looked down then, his sunglasses now off and twirling in his hand. That was when Eros saw the look in his eye. It was one of masked disappointment and boredom, of a false curiosity born from both. Vitya quirked an eyebrow in challenge. Yuuri was struggling to remember whether that was his character or if Vitya really was feeling this way because that wasn’t the reaction he wanted at all.

So he would go for the reaction that he _wanted_.

Eros wasn’t going to lose to Vitya. He said so at the start. He pictured how they were in front of the mirror again, Vitya bending to his will, to bask in his air of confidence. Eros was the one gripping crescent claw marks through Vitya’s pant legs, pinning him down. And Vitya dropped his hand from Eros’s head, relinquishing control. This was _his_ to finish.

With that thought, Yuuri sucked in a deep breath and took Vitya’s cock the rest of the way in, feeling the uncomfortable slide down his throat. He pressed on until his nose bumped into Vitya’s pubic hairs. He glanced at the mirror, feeling a greedy sense of pride at seeing Vitya’s cock in his mouth from another angle.

He wanted to choke. So badly. His throat muscles weren’t relaxed enough. There was a panic beginning to rise, but he had to suppress it. _Had to_. Vitya told him to breathe, so he breathed, quiet, soft, shallow breaths. His hands were shaking and his body had pushed so far forward that he was nearly off the dildo. When his throat decided he had enough, he fell back onto the dildo, muffled moans traveling down Vitya’s cock as he eased it back out of his mouth.

Vitya’s own jaw was slack when Eros peered up through his lashes, a thick coating of saliva connecting his swollen lips to Vitya’s equally swollen cock. “Fuck,” he muttered, his words unraveling from his tongue, “fuck, Eros. That was hot. P-Please, do it again.”

Not one to want to _ever_ disappoint, Eros lifted himself off the dildo and back down with a lewd _squelch,_ humming as it glanced that spot. He wrapped his lips around Vitya’s cock, pushing his lips outward and humming again, letting the vibrations of his own pleasure shoot through Vitya.

The haughty atmosphere around Vitya cracked, his eyes flashing with some other emotion Yuuri couldn’t decipher, quickly hidden by eyelids in a surprise moan. Eros bobbed up and down, stuck between pushing down onto the dildo and pulling Vitya’s cock in for more.

Eros decided if he was going to break Vitya, he wanted to go all the way. He closed his eyes, sighed, and dragged his tongue along Vitya’s cock until it went past the back of his throat and down, down, until he hit the shaved pubic hairs with his nose. Then he shifted his weight on his feet so that he could hover over the toy and move more freely. Using his own pleasure, Eros made sure the vibrations from the back of his throat rattled every inch of Vitya. Pulled off of both, then back on, and again, and again, and again. He rested his head against Vitya, then slowly casted his glance upward.

Vitya was debauched. His lips had teeth marks, his cheeks were splotched pink, connecting over his nose, and his hair— was that sweat? That didn’t make sense. Eros was doing all the work here.

He would be the one to sweat for the both of them.

Eros wasn’t sure how long he kept it up for, but he knew he was close to finishing. The combination of Vitya’s loud groans, the slick sounds of saliva and precome, the slide of skin on skin and silicone, had him plateauing right on the edge. Even if it was just through the costume, a few strokes would have him coming. He knew it.

But Vitya was closer than even Eros, apparently, because suddenly Eros’s mind was tuning into the change in his voice, the higher pitch, the trembling hands on his shoulders.

“Eros,” Vitya murmured like a prayer, had been for awhile now, “Eros, oh _fuck_ , I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—”

Yuuri wanted to hold himself close to Vitya while he came, to take everything there was to offer, to show that Vitya was _his_ and _no one else’s_ , drunk on power as he was. But Vitya pushed him away, cock pulling out too fast and causing him to gag.

He wasn’t sure if he managed to contain it in time, but he kept his tongue out all the same because there was a thick substance splattering his cheeks, nose, mouth, chin, dribbling down his neck.

It wasn’t enough for him, though, and by the time Vitya had painted him thoroughly, Eros couldn’t palm himself to completion. He was left hard, leaking, but somehow still somewhat satisfied as he glanced at Vitya’s absolutely wrecked face.

“Did I pay you well?” Eros asked, his facial movements causing Vitya’s come to drip further, some falling into his mouth.

It tasted like victory.

* * *

And in a blink, Vitya was gone from sight again.

Yuuri was helped off of the ottoman, at which point he realized just how worn out his legs had become. Years of ballet and pole dancing didn’t mean his legs would never tire, but good _god_ they felt like they were branded with a steel rod from a searing hot fire.

Several cameramen handed him wet wipes and heated towels, all of which he took as he shuffled off set to clean his face and peel off the costume that had miraculously not been damaged. Mila claimed it was a miracle and that they would have to make Yuuri wear it again soon because _wow Yuuri you looked so amazing_ and _Vitya absolutely lost it when you did that thing_ or _you were so sexy that if you were a real ice skater, the ice would melt underneath you_ , as well as other ridiculous comments.

But none of that mattered. He needed to know where Viktor went. He needed to know if what happened was an act because it was cruel to be ignored the first time but to do it a second time was nearly unforgivable. It raised too many questions and as soon as he had his own clothes on again, he ran out the door with his toys in a cinch bag he didn’t remember bringing in the first place.

His mind was still rushing to keep up with him as he made his way through to the table of food and drinks. It had taken him awhile to clean up, so a lot of the supplies were already consumed. Viktor must have already gone home.

If Yuuri was going to be leaving for Japan, he wanted to make sure he didn’t shun people away and ruin his last few weeks. That included Viktor, who had been so kind to him up until now. He didn’t like the sour taste that would inevitably occur once he left.

Then a thought occurred. Vitya finally had sex with Yuuri like he stated he wanted two weeks ago. Now that they had, there was no reason for Vitya to keep interest. Yuuri’s step faltered going out the studio doors.

He texted Phichit.

_Yuuri: Vitya left again. Told you he’s just using me for sex. Bad sex, too, apparently._

_Phichit: What?_  
_Phichit: OH NO HE’S NOT_  
_Phichit: IF HE SAID THAT HE’S A FILTHY LIAR_ _  
_ Phichit: Yuuri, talk to him.

_Yuuri: I told you he’s gone._

_Phichit: Yuuri. As your best friend, roommate, better half, TALK TO HIM. Call him, text him, idfc, you need to TALK. Like you did with me over the weekend. It felt nice to get that stuff off your chest, right?_  
_Phichit: If Vitya cares_  
_Phichit: AND I KNOW HE DOES_ _  
_ Phichit: He will listen. Who knows, maybe he wants to talk too.

The hand holding his phone up near his face dropped, swaying uselessly at his side. His throat felt raw and when he sniffled, he was alarmed to feel a tear drop down his cheek. His eyes must have been wet for awhile. Was it from deepthroating? From feeling abandoned? Yuuri wasn’t sure he would ever be able to pinpoint it.

So, doing what he did best, he wandered.

Normally, he wandered to the ballet studio. Today his legs hurt too much to think about much more than walking, and even that was proving to be a Herculean effort. Whenever his phone buzzed in his pocket, up against his pant leg and his unspent dick, two types of pain would cause him to wince. Not being able to come was leaving him testy, listless, but he didn’t have the will to deal with it just yet.

Especially not when his usual method was to fuck into his fist watching Vitya plow someone else.

Now that just felt wrong.

After one more buzz from his phone, Yuuri dug it out of his pocket and checked the screen. Most were from Phichit, the recent one saying _Phichit: Yuuri call him and tell..._

Then Yuuri saw Viktor’s name underneath Phichit’s. He never opened a text so fast in his life. Phichit would be proud.

_Viktor: Yakov messaged me. Said you forgot to sign your timesheet. You should go do that, I don’t want you getting in trouble._

Of course Viktor would only text him with work information. Yuuri’s shoulders fell, suddenly lackluster. Yuuri walked around a little while longer before he stopped to take a look at his surroundings.

He recognized this street. That building. It was Viktor’s.

Another buzz.

 _Phichit: YUURI ANSWER YOUR PHONE_  
_Phichit: ANSWER ME UNLESS YOU’RE TALKING TO VITYA_ _  
_ Phichit: In which case good luck & go get ‘im!

Yuuri grit his teeth, curled his hands into fists, and took Phichit’s advice. He was here, anyway.

Once he made it up every single staircase he knocked at the door, barely noticing his rapid breathing. His foot tapped nervously, waiting for a noise or the latch of the lock or _something_. Not hearing anything, he closed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his lip, keeping the wave of emotions at bay. He was about to head back down the stairs when the door opened.

“Yuuri?”

And when Yuuri turned around, he didn’t see Vitya. He saw a man in sweats— no shirt— with water droplets falling from his silver hair and cascading down his abs. He looked like he came straight out of a summer sports magazine cover, and Yuuri wasn’t complaining.

Viktor’s eyes were round, widening the longer that they stood there in silence, his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Yuuri’s confidence from before was dwindling fast.

“Vikor,” Yuuri breathed, not knowing what to feel for a moment before the anger washed over him again. “We, um, need to talk. C-Can I come in?”

Viktor stepped aside, his door opening wider. “Please,” he said, still looking for all the world like Yuuri had three heads.

Yuuri stepped inside, politely removing his shoes and wondering where Viktor’s poodle was because he wasn’t being assaulted by a giant fluffy monster. Regardless, he wasn’t here for Makkachin. He was here to understand what it was that Viktor had a problem with.

The room was silent again once they were standing facing each other again, the pitter-patter of water falling to the hardwood floor from Viktor’s wet hair louder now with each passing moment.

They looked at each other for awhile, eyes meeting but not speaking. Those impossibly blue pupils were less guarded than they had been at the studio, but still not open, not honest. Yuuri needed honest right now.

“Yuuri, I—”

“Viktor, I—”

They both stopped.

“You can go first,” Viktor bowed with a hand out in offering, “you came here for something, didn’t you? Do you— do you want anything to drink first? You can have a seat on the sofa. You’re a little— you seem tired.”

Yuuri was about to protest purely out of stubbornness, but found that his legs were close to giving out. He nodded, asking for a glass of water, and made his way over to the pristine living room.

There was a couch and two chairs, although it seemed like Viktor only ever sat in the one by the bookshelf with a lamp positioned toward that chair. There was no TV. Just a spotless, lifeless living room. Colors were muted and the sunlight gave no warmth.

“You really shouldn’t have walked all the way here,” Viktor walked in with two glasses, both water, “not in your condition. Especially since I live further from the studio than you do. Did you manage to get home alright last week?”

Yuuri glared at Viktor. “Yurio drove me home.”

Viktor’s face fell as he plopped onto the couch opposite of Yuuri’s chair. “You don’t dri— oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought— I should have asked—”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri cut him off, “I was fine.”

“No,” Viktor argued, “Yurio shouldn’t be driving alone. I’ll take you home from now on. Why didn’t you tell me—”

“You always left before I could say anything,” Yuuri stated simply. It hung in the air, Viktor’s face blank, blindsighted.

He said nothing.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” Yuuri started, staring down into his glass and watching the water ripple as he tapped against the cup. He pursed his lips, looking for the right words, because now he was actually in front of him and the words were gone but the anger and confusion was still encircling his mind like a starving serpent. “I-I’m here because— I wanted to...”

Viktor still said nothing. Waiting.

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri tried again, his throat still a little rough, “what I’m doing wrong.”

“What you’re— Yuuri,” Viktor shook his head, “you aren’t doing anything wrong. Where did this come from?”

“You leave immediately, as soon as the shoots are finished,” Yuuri answered, attempting a slow breath but it came out shaky instead, “and during the shoots you act like a completely different person. Which, I mean, I _know_ Vitya is different from Viktor. I get that it’s acting. But... but you ignored me. You—”

“I wasn’t meaning to,” Viktor hastily responded, “I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did _Vitya_ look so bored, huh?” Yuuri asked, his words already sounding bitter on his tongue. But he couldn’t help it. The look of indifference on Vitya’s face, hidden by those dumb sunglasses, had been telling enough. “How am I supposed to keep Vitya’s interest, Viktor? Because I don’t understand.”

Viktor blinked, putting a finger to his lips in contemplation like he hadn’t thought about it before. “You just have to pull out that inner Eros, Yuuri,” Viktor said simply. “We both know it’s there.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Yuuri shook his head, “Eros is just my name.”

Viktor shut his eyes shut and lips tight. When he relaxed, his eyes opened, noticeably darker than before. “Eros is more than just your name, Yuuri,” he explained. “Eros is the embodiment of a playboy, of one who treasures lovers like great conquests, mastering one after the other in succession, always looking for more, for greater. He dances through the hearts of the unsuspecting and leaves them wanting more of what is already gone.”

Yuuri nodded along, understanding Viktor’s logic better as he went, although still not seeing how he could be described as _Eros_ at all. And _still_ not understanding what this had to do with Vitya or Viktor or whatever this all was anymore. With each passing second he regretted coming here. “So for me to act like Eros, like a _sex god_ … that is what will get Vitya’s attention?”

Viktor’s hand rubbed down his face in agitation. “Okay, you’re not getting it.”

“What is it that I’m not getting?” Yuuri stood, voice equally agitated. “How do I become Eros enough to keep Vitya the Living Legend captivated?” His tone became mocking. “Or ‘ _conquered_ ,’ as you put it?”

Viktor took a deep, slow breath, the veins in his neck close to popping, the only indication that he might not be as calm as he looked. “If you want to conquer Vitya the Living Legend, you have to figure out how to master him. And you can’t master a man behind a mask. You have to conquer the man _behind_ all of the cameras,” Viktor reasoned.

Yuuri was just more puzzled, more lost. “Why would talking to a cameraman help?”

“What?” Viktor choked out his response, standing as well. “No, no, no— Yuuri. Me. I meant me. Conquer Viktor. Seduce Viktor, and you will be able to seduce Vitya—”

Oh.

“—so when I say to seduce me, Yuuri, I mean seduce— _me_ ,” Viktor finished, the words tumbling out of him like a landslide that swept away the forest, leaving the ugly, torn-up ground bare to the skies, leaving his lungs exposed but unable to take in new oxygen. His face grew slack, eyes wide, unable to replant the forest that had been destroyed. There were blinks, as if each flutter of his eyelids would define the words he said for him, because it didn’t look like they registered in Viktor’s mind until it was too late.

Yuuri’s mind drew a blank as well. There was too much information and not enough all at once, his mind swimming among the what-ifs but also falling into the nothingness of the why-nots. What Viktor was suggesting was breaking a rule, or very nearly so. Either way, no one could know if he took that next step over the edge.

He recognized the pull on his being, that hand that stopped him from crossing the street that was now holding him up. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was pushing him across now, around the coffee table between them, and into Viktor’s space.

Viktor never once shied away or stopped him, and that push became a shove. They were on the couch. Viktor must know what he was doing.

And if that was the case, Yuuri had a lot to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I just wanted to let you know that I got a new, full-time job that I'll be starting on the 5th. My hope is that it will force me to keep a regular writing time and upkeep schedule, but we'll see. Either way, I want to have chapter 11 out before I start work 1) because it's an important chapter that builds off of this one and 2) I don't want you guys to be accidentally forced to wait another month for an update if things go south.
> 
> Don't worry about my sanity. Most of chapter 11 has already been written, so a faster update is nothing taxing on me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)


	11. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They continue to talk. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAHHH FINALLY!!!!! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time, so I really, really hope you guys like it!
> 
> I even had a specific Spotify playlist just for this chapter, but honestly, if you just listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzg4yACP4nE), I think you'll get the feel I wanted to convey.
> 
> (Although [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOIfNyBmZ0g) was a close second when it came to choosing a chapter title.)

Viktor had never been more frustrated with himself than he was at this moment, but perhaps in hindsight, he really should have seen this.

In hindsight.

He should have known that doing a shoot with Yuuri Katsuki was going to be different from other shoots. That, despite it being his job for nearly ten years, he was going to mess up _solely_ because it was Yuuri he was filming with. He had gotten caught up in it, had let Yuuri push him and grind onto him like they were the only ones in the room. And that feeling, that they were alone, was novel to him. Never in his years at the studio had that ever happened.

So when he came to, realizing he was going to finish and stopping them abruptly, it wasn’t surprising to hear Yakov’s Russian through the haze: “You’re losing your touch if he’s bringing you that close already.”

It had angered Vitya so much, because it was _true_. He held himself there, a fraying thread of string away from snapping, and had to make himself remember it was a job. If anyone told him months ago— hell, even _two weeks ago_ — this would happen, he would have laughed at them.

“Do you want to take a break?” Yakov had instigated. Vitya had been forced to take a break once before, when they filmed in the mock ballet studio and Yuuri had used that traitorously gorgeous ass against him, and Vitya had felt so inadequate. That he couldn’t contain himself around Eros was a problem.

So what did he do? He didn’t listen to Yakov. He fought it off and went again.

It really was only natural that Yakov approached him after Yuuri left the recording room and grumbled something at him about keeping his work and private life separate, that Yuuri was a part of the job that would come and go just like all the other hires outside of their immediate circle.

Viktor refused, also naturally, and insisted Yuuri Katsuki wouldn’t be like that, wouldn’t play around. He had numerous evidence against that, of course, but his heart held out hope.

“Wait until he doesn’t work here anymore then,” Yakov threw up his hands in frustration. “He’ll quit once he finds a new ballet company. Go after him all you want at that point. But for now wait. It. Out.”

Viktor wanted to rebel, he really did, because that was always something he did to push Yakov’s buttons. It was fun, but now it just felt necessary.

“Oh,” Yakov interrupted Viktor’s devious planning, “speaking of ballet— remember Yuratchka’s performance next weekend. You know what he would do if he found out you weren’t attending.”

“I’ll make sure to bring my foam finger,” Viktor promised, which earned a short exhale of air from Yakov— probably the most intense laugh Viktor had ever heard from him. It must have been a good sign.

Nevertheless, Viktor tried. He tried to let Yuuri come to him, because if he did, Viktor would meet him anywhere in a heartbeat. Normally, he would text anyone without a second thought, but he found himself hesitating with Yuuri for fear of pushing him too far, closing him off again. Several times he had typed out several messages, ranging from short hellos to long essays about what Yuuri meant to him, but each time he never managed to send them. They were too much and not enough and Viktor swore he hadn’t been this nervous about anything before.

He wanted to please, that was what he did what he knew how to do. He pleased people by pleasing other people. It was just a part of the job, and he was good at it. But he wanted to please Yuuri in more ways than that, which was new to him. He didn’t know how to please someone like Yuuri, not physically, at least.

So he waited, because maybe, if Yuuri contacted him first, then it would be okay. He could try again.

The weekend passed and Viktor hadn’t known disappointment could feel so potent. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from, because he didn’t want to blame it on Yuuri. It wasn’t Yuuri’s fault, he was just following Yakov’s rules. To a perfect T.

But Viktor knew it had to be there somewhere. _It_ being what he’d seen, felt, _experienced_ that first day. That freeing feeling of _you aren’t just a toy for the camera_ and _you have a body that could make sweet love_ and _we dance like perfect partners, you and I_ that swam around in his mind even now whenever Yuuri showed even the slightest interest. Because he knew Yuuri meant those words, there was no way around it. He just wanted to feel the fluttering in his chest, the addictingly anxious churn in his gut, the bewildered rush of adrenaline, just one more time.

And it was that Monday morning as everyone was preparing for another impersonal shoot that Viktor realized he couldn’t let this yearning interfere with his work again. He took that suit and those sunglasses eagerly, praying they would be enough to create a mental barrier.

Of course, the first time he saw Yuuri that day had to be outside the recording room with a flesh-colored dildo in his hands and a charmingly determined look on his face. If Viktor hadn’t been wearing those sunglasses, he would have broken his composure. And when Yuuri stroked it, telling him it was from his _“personal_ collection,” Viktor had to bite his tongue. Yuuri always surprised him, and in the porn industry he was no different.

Especially when Yuuri showed his level of attention for Vitya. Also eager to please, he was practically worshipping Vitya’s cock and showering it with praises only a tongue could replicate. It was once again something very new for him.

Then Yuuri pulled off, saying he couldn’t do it anymore. High on pleasure but frustrated from hiding it, Vitya couldn’t help pulling the shades off and staring. The haze had been pulled off of him like a blanket, and he found himself staring at the sinful appearance of Yuuri in that bondage outfit he had worn years ago. It was tailored differently to look like a regular costume, but that didn’t fool him. He remembered that film, for all that it was, the good and the bad. Seeing it on Yuuri, though, it did things to him.

And seeing Yuuri take all of his cock in his mouth, unhindered by those damned glasses that dimmed everything and made it easier to block himself out, Viktor was gone. As much as he tried to scramble, to keep himself composed, he failed. He was able to pull out, sure, but he knew they were wrapping it up earlier than intended, and it was already supposed to be a shortened shoot. It frustrated him, and he had left.

Viktor needed a cold shower to wash away his embarrassment, away from the studios. He signed his timesheet, ignoring Yakov’s questions, and went home. Yakov had texted him at some point about Yuuri forgetting his timesheet, so he texted Yuuri quickly so as not to dwell on it. Locking Makkachin in his room, Viktor apologized, saying he wanted some alone time and hoping that his poodle could somehow understand.

He hoped the cold water would also wash away these emotions that were confusing him. His work and private life were indeed separate, but that had only ever been the case because he _had_ no private life. He had no clue where to draw the line, other than where Yakov told him to, and he didn’t want to draw it there. There was so much swimming in his head that he preferred to just wash it away, to strip himself clean and just _not. Think._

And it worked.

Until he was drying off and heard the knock at his front door, followed by a whine from Makkachin.

Because at that point, he was already hopping on one foot, pulling up his sweatpants and disregarding the towel that had been on his head drying his hair. No one ever stopped by his house, except Yurio on the rare occasion, and even then Yurio would enter without knocking.

_Yuuri._

In hindsight, he should have known what Yuuri showing up at his doorstep had meant. He should have anticipated their argument and handled it better.

In hindsight.

Yuuri looked sad, withdrawn, and Viktor threw everything he had been trying to convince himself of out the window. He offered everything he could.

And perhaps that was why he had offered himself, even knowing he wasn’t supposed to.

When he looked at Yuuri, sitting at his chair in his otherwise unused, forlorn living room, Viktor’s heart lurched. Because although Yuuri looked conflicted, his presence was bright enough to contrast so starkly with the dull background. He was a beacon, a shining light in the dark and Viktor was nothing but a moth, drawn to a flame that would burn him alive if he got too close.

To think that _Yuuri_ would think himself doing anything wrong was beyond Viktor’s capabilities.

To think that _Yuuri_ , who called himself Eros and proved that very name’s essence barely two weeks ago, thought he wasn’t Eros at all, was quite simply impossible. But Yuuri wouldn’t listen to anything Viktor tried to tell him. Because of course Vitya was being impersonal, he had to be. That’s the job.

Then it clicked. This was Yuuri’s indirect way of asking for more. Between them. He was opening up and Viktor wanted to be there, to offer all that he could.

He was a people-pleaser, after all.

So, really, he should have anticipated Yuuri pushing him back onto the couch and straddling him, in hindsight.

In hindsight.

“Yuuri?” He heard himself say, but his tongue was numb, unwilling to form more words. He had been selfish, asking Yuuri to seduce him, but it was what they both wanted, wasn’t it?

Not like this, his brain was yelling, not like this.

Yuuri had a hand on his bare chest, skin searing skin. “If that’s what I need to do, I’ll do it.”

Time stood still in that moment, but not Viktor’s thoughts. They tumbled over each other in an effort to be heard, but all they were doing was drowning him out. He didn’t mean to start something right this second, mostly because he didn’t think Yuuri would be so bold.

“We just filmed today, not even two hours ago,” Viktor reminded him gently, his voice struggling not to betray his whirlwind of emotions, “you’ve— you’ve gotta be sore. That dildo was almost my size. I wouldn’t want—”

“That dildo wasn’t nearly enough,” Yuuri’s lips spoke, the words too sultry to be true.

Viktor’s heart was thudding in his chest, an anxious heat resonating inside that he hadn’t felt since he started filming porn. This situation, so familiar to what he had filmed for so long, was all at once something so new, so foreign, so intoxicating. Yuuri Katsuki was taking all the words from his mouth and with a flick of that devilish tongue and the smoldering look in his eyes, Viktor’s body was involuntarily shivering.

Then another surprise: Yuuri paused, his look faltering, his eyes dropping and cheeks flushing bright red. Viktor wanted to laugh, because really, Yuuri was being the selfish one now. That Yuuri should think that he needs to be nervous around Viktor at all when Viktor’s never done this before was something so funny because it should be the other way around. But Viktor didn’t laugh, lest he scare Yuuri away. That was the last thing he wanted to come of this moment.

And there was this conclusion that he came to, cupping Yuuri’s cheek and praying that his message would come across with each inch of contact, with the intensity he hoped was in his gaze. Perhaps this kind of thing, this feeling of excitement and terror rolled into one that was both warming and painful and everything that Viktor wanted and hated, was selfish too. For both of them. And that perhaps, when it came to the two of them, being selfish was okay.

Viktor shook his head, eyes not leaving Yuuri’s, because he couldn’t find the words to tell Yuuri that this was everything they needed, and everything they could be was on this cusp of something beautiful and all they had to do was acknowledge it.

“Please, Viktor,” Yuuri begged with those round, soft eyes that promised the world, “let me try.”

If both sides were selfish, it couldn’t be a bad thing. Viktor was sure of it.

“Okay,” Viktor let out in a rush of air, and in an instant Yuuri was at his neck, pressing his body closer and letting his hands dance across Viktor’s torso like he was memorizing it, like it was his performance to articulate.

And when Yuuri shifted his hips, bringing them flush together, Viktor felt his erection in full. It registered in his mind that Yuuri might not have come during their shoot earlier, and if that were the case, he would be aching _badly_.

Before Viktor could think to reach for it, Yuuri’s lips were kissing down his collarbone, over his chest, leaving small glistening spots in his wake. Yuuri’s hips pulled away and he traveled further down, latching onto a nipple and pausing. Viktor held his breath, watching his chest beat up and down anyway, and waited.

Yuuri’s tongue flicked across it, sending a shock of nerves straight to Viktor's dick that was beginning to twitch with interest. Viktor wanted Yuuri to know he appreciated it, wanted to encourage Yuuri, so he sighed that stage sigh, letting his head fall back to bare himself for Yuuri. Yuuri repeated the motion, and again came that sensation. It was so teasingly done, at random intervals, that Viktor’s hands were attempting to ground himself by digging into Yuuri’s hips and pulling him forward. He wanted it to continue and stop all at the same time, his thoughts jumbled up even more now than before.

But Yuuri kept at it, and hid from view his hand that slowly palmed Viktor through his sweatpants. Viktor knew this sort of move, had done it to someone and had it done to him in turn. It was nothing new, shouldn’t be anything new, but it felt so different here, now, in his apartment. In this space so small compared to the world but filled to the brim with everything he ever wanted, Viktor let it wash over him.

Where had this gone when they filmed?

It was sucked away by the camera, that’s where.

Viktor silently cursed Yakov for keeping this great and wonderful thing from him all these years.

The curses died when he felt Yuuri tug down his sweats, exposing his now hard cock to the air, and his thoughts completely disappeared when Yuuri’s hand wrapped around it. He stroked slow and steady, far more caring and attentive than Viktor thought could be possible. The heat of his hand was everything like earlier today and more. He wanted to reciprocate; Yuuri must be so painfully hard.

So Viktor started doing the same, beginning with removing Yuuri’s shirt, slipping his fingers under the hem and teasing the skin underneath as he pulled it upwards. Yuuri got the hint, straightening his back and lifting his arms to make it easier. Viktor tossed the shirt aside and lunged forward, his lips finding Yuuri’s jawline, tracing his way from chin to ear and down his throat, puckering his lips and smacking them loudly, the only way he knew how: for the cameras.

That fact was made apparent when his own lips met Yuuri’s nipple. Yuuri sighed softly under his ministration, nowhere nearly as loud as Viktor had been moments ago. And it occurred to Viktor then, like he should have known all along, that there were no cameras and they didn’t have to make noises for sake of something that wasn’t there.

Viktor was brought out of his thoughts when Yuuri pulled away, standing on his knees on either side of Viktor’s legs and no longer touching Viktor’s cock. He admired that lithe, toned body, showing no restraint in roaming over the planes of muscle. He watched as Yuuri’s hands traveled down his own body, as if marking the trail that Viktor made with his eyes. Fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pushed, shoving both his jeans and underwear down to his mid-thighs.

Yuuri’s cock fell out, standing proud and leaking with smeared precome. Viktor, without thinking, sunk his body lower into the couch until he was at eye level with it. Just as beautiful as the rest of his body, Yuuri’s cock needed no camera tricks to prove it was worthy of doing something truly erotic. Viktor licked his lips, wetting them eagerly. He leaned forward only to be met with empty air.

“I won’t last if you do that,” Yuuri’s voice warned.

Opening his eyes, Viktor realized that Yuuri had stood up and stepped back, pulling off his pants and kicking them away like they were burning his skin. He glanced at Viktor, a flush high on his cheeks.

“Lay down on the couch,” Yuuri ordered hesitantly.

Viktor suddenly found that he liked following orders.

No sooner had he laid back, Yuuri was on him again, their cocks now lined up against each other. Viktor blinked, staring unabashedly at them together. As Yuuri leaned over and began rocking his hips down, Viktor couldn’t help but compare them. Yuuri wasn’t nearly as long as he was, not by three inches or so, but he wasn’t lacking, either. His girth, easily wider than Viktor’s, looked so very promising. Had always felt promising when they were filming, making him wish Yakov would let him bottom more often just so he could feel Yuuri’s incredible length inside him, stretching him out. He wondered if Yuuri would take him today. He hoped, but in truth he guessed he didn’t care as long as he could still feel Yuuri in his arms at the end of this.

The slide, the friction between them, was more pleasurable to Viktor knowing that Yuuri was receiving the exact same feeling. Viktor’s mouth hung open as his eyes remained glued to the sight, moans falling from his lips with each movement. This was a new position for him, one that had never been used in film because there was no way a camera could capture this perfectly at any angle. And perhaps it would end things too soon; that was probably another reason this wasn’t utilized more often.

Viktor understood that perfectly when Yuuri stilled suddenly, their foreheads meeting gingerly. Yuuri’s body shook almost imperceptibly. Viktor opened his eyes. As if on cue, Yuuri’s cock spilled over both of them and across Viktor’s stomach. The sight was making his mouth drool and he was unable to look away. The weight of Yuuri’s come, sliding slowly down his skin, was nearly enough to make him finish.

Nearly.

But Yuuri had finished. He didn’t need to attend to Viktor. They were even, now, so Viktor would do his part and clean up.

He was leaning over to his side to snag the tissue box on the coffee table when Yuuri’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He tugged it upward, grabbing Viktor’s other hand to join both above and behind his head. The movement excited Viktor but not without an air of confusion.

“Don’t touch it,” Yuuri warned, holding Viktor’s wrists down with one hand, “we’re not done yet.”

Viktor felt his face heat up unbearably fast, spreading from his cheeks down his neck and across his chest, a burn increasing the fire in his gut.

“Wh—”

“You know how I told you that I didn’t like being fingered by someone else?” Yuuri asked then, not giving Viktor a change to answer. “Do you want to see how I do it?”

Viktor’s dick twitched again, painfully so, and he found himself nodding before he brain could formulate a proper response. Yuuri was already using his free hand to scoop up his release, making sure it coated his fingers nicely. He arched his back, chest on Viktor’s stomach with remnants of his come sealing them together, and brought his hand toward his ass. His palm rested on a cheek as his fingers circled what Viktor knew must be a sore muscle after today’s film.

“W-Wait,” Viktor struggled against Yuuri’s hold on his wrists, surprised to find that Yuuri was stronger than he thought, “are you sure about this?” Because Viktor didn’t need to come again, he really didn’t. He was hard, sure, but Yuuri was already giving so much, and that was unfair. Viktor wanted to be the one to give.

That thought was derailed when Yuuri said: “You and I both know my stamina hasn’t run out yet.”

_Oh_ — “Fuck, Yuuri,” Viktor swore with the last bit of air that had been in his lungs.

Yuuri paused.

Panic rose, flooding Viktor’s senses. He knew what the problem was as soon as he said it. Said Yuuri’s name. Would Yuuri insist they keep their professional names? Viktor’s mind was screaming at him to stop this if that was the case. Viktor couldn’t handle that. He didn’t want to be _Vitya._ Not here. Not now. _Please._

“You’re about to, _Viktor,_ ” Yuuri responded, and it was a time bomb that had reached the end of its counter, because now Viktor couldn’t hear anything but Yuuri’s panting breaths and wet, squelching sounds coming from his fingers opening himself up.

Viktor realized, then, but not for the first time in his life, that he would never be able to look away from Yuuri Katsuki. Whether on the stage or on top of him like this, his body sang a siren song that drew him in, drowning him with music only he could hear. Yuuri pushed further into himself, forcing a choked moan past his lips, breath hot against Viktor’s chest. Viktor whimpered, his cock held tight to his abdomen by Yuuri’s heaving torso, not gaining nearly enough friction to carry him over as he watched Yuuri fuck himself.

Yuuri froze suddenly, removing his fingers and pushing himself off of Viktor. He gathered what was left of the come between the both of them and slathered it as best he could over Viktor’s length.

Viktor sat up on his elbows. “That won’t be enough,” he said hastily, before Yuuri could overtake him again, “I have lube in the guest room.” From his old camming sessions, sure, but it was still good. He didn’t want to hurt Yuuri. Not since he was already doing so much after he’d finished, his cock barely half hard now.

“I’m still open from the shoot and you’re plenty slick,” Yuuri reasoned, sitting up and inching himself forward to line Viktor’s cock up to his ass.

“Yuuri,” Viktor tried again, “please. Go get the lube. I’m not going soft anytime soon, I can wait.”

Yuuri had Viktor’s cock head pressing tight against his hole, almost there, _almost_ inside, but he stopped. Viktor wanted to curse himself for saying anything.

Yuuri smirked, obviously seeing right through him. “I guess you can.”

Viktor’s elbow gave out, hands covering his face in a pitiful attempt to hide the splotchy sunset that he was sure was beginning to appear. “Last room on the left,” he mumbled out.

Viktor wanted to cry when the warmth of Yuuri’s body left his, exposing him entirely to the cold air of the apartment. The only reason he held it back was because Yuuri came back soon after, a bottle in his hand. In a rush, he squeezed some out and stroked Viktor’s cock, then using another dollop to make sure he was still well-prepped.

Yuuri resumed where he left off, taking his sweet time in pushing Viktor’s cock past the ring of muscle. But when Viktor thought he would stop, to bob for a little bit before going a little further like he was used to in film, Yuuri pushed past. All the way, slowly, slower, excruciatingly slow until his ass touched Viktor’s thighs.

The way that Yuuri sat there, holding all of Viktor inside him and trembling so minutely, had Viktor motionless. Yuuri’s eyes were clouded behind those blue frames, staring straight down as he struggled to rein in his breathing. Viktor brought his hands up to cup Yuuri’s face, gently gliding up to slide Yuuri’s glasses off of his face. He folded them and set them over on the coffee table, eyes not leaving Yuuri.

Yuuri was looking at him now, too, and Viktor couldn’t resist putting his fingers back on his cheeks, brushing over them and watching as the subtle crimson color followed.

_Go when you’re ready_ , Viktor hoped he was saying, willing his hips to keep still. Thumbs swiped back and forth over the smooth skin before his hands glided down his neck, out over his shoulders, down his arms to travel back up and down his abs and rest on either side of his quivering hips, basking Yuuri in all the glory his body deserved.

Yuuri slowly pulled up, the muscles in his thighs constricting under Viktor’s arms as Viktor’s cock began to slide out. Up, up, Yuuri was nearly sitting all the way up when he changed direction, sheathing Viktor again a little faster than the first time. Viktor’s hands remained at Yuuri’s hips, a steady encouragement as Yuuri continued, picking up the pace until he found something comfortable.

It was all so languid, soft and quiet, the apartment hearing nothing but shy, trepid slaps of skin on skin. There were pants and sighs, so low that Viktor couldn’t tell who they were coming from. They moved like a gentle breeze, barely rustling the leaves of the trees, the couch not making more than a tempoed sound of leather creasing.

No wonder Yuuri was always so quiet when they filmed: this was what real sex was like.

Yuuri leaned down, resting his forehead to Viktor’s again before going faster. They shared the space of their breaths, their pants louder in the closer proximity. Over Yuuri’s shoulder, Viktor could see Yuuri’s ass bobbing, skin jiggling slightly at each apex, at every slap of their hips joining together.

“Just—” Viktor had to close his eyes when Yuuri came down particularly hard, groaning in pleasure, “—just like that, Yuuri.”

Because if Yuuri kept at it like this, Viktor knew he wouldn’t last long. But at least now he knew for sure that he wouldn’t, and didn’t feel nearly as bad about it as he did earlier.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whined as he grinded down and stayed there, causing Viktor to bite his lip. Then he noticed Yuuri’s thighs shaking. “My legs hurt. I… I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Viktor couldn’t help the chuckle, even after Yuuri’s forehead left his and was replaced by an incredulous stare. Viktor shook his head and held Yuuri’s face in his hands again because it was so surreal, to have this beautiful human being in his lap and be able to treasure him the way he always wanted to. “That’s okay, _solnyshko,_ ” Viktor whispered, watching as Yuuri’s confusion smoothed out into something curious, “you don’t have to.”

“But—”

Viktor shushed him mildly. “You don’t have to do all the work. Please, let me try,” he repeated, trying for a smirk but ending up smiling.

Yuuri rolled his lips, biting them before swiping a tongue out to soothe them. He nodded carefully. “Okay.”

He sat up, then, but before he could sink back down onto Viktor completely, Viktor’s hands gripped the underside of Yuuri’s thighs, feeling slick lube between his fingers. He held him there, muscles cording but capable.

As much as Viktor loved seeing Yuuri in control, he wanted to participate. With the haze of his mind clearing a little, Viktor sucked in a deep breath and shifted his weight. He tested a short thrust upward, reveling in the surprised gasp drawn from Yuuri’s lips, the loudest he’d been yet. Inspired, Viktor tried a few more, less jerky and more fluid. Yuuri’s groan was longer, relieved, so Viktor continued.

He was able to keep the pace he set, but soon he knew what the heat building in his gut meant. Faster and faster, Viktor aimed as best he could for Yuuri’s sweet spot, knowing that this wasn’t the best position to search for it. Regardless, he was addicted to the sounds of Yuuri enjoying his cock and the sight of Yuuri’s eyes scrunched tight and his own cock bobbing in the air, leaking again already. Viktor could watch and listen, be entertained for eternity.

O how sweet the death.

Death that arrives too quickly.

“Yuuri,” Viktor huffed out, barely a whisper amongst his strained breathing, “Yuuri, I’m close— I’m going to come soon. Tell me what you need.”

Yuuri, head back and exposing the long line of his jaw and throat, shook his head, hair falling away like bird feathers of outstretched wings. “Viktor— Viktor, come for me.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Viktor choked out, and Yuuri pulled off of him completely, the wet heat now gone. It was too late, he was going to finish.

Yuuri pulled at his cock furiously, watching Viktor as thick splatters of come painted his stomach again, this time of his own release. Viktor, even though he was seeing stars and feeling like he weighed less than nothing, reached out and guided Yuuri’s hand, the both of them stroking Yuuri’s cock until Yuuri came again not long after.

When they were still, chests heaving and cheeks flushed, Viktor looked down at his own body. Their come was all over him, mixing such that Viktor couldn’t tell which was his and which was Yuuri’s.

And he fucking loved it. More than he ever had before.

Neither of them moved for a moment, soaking in all that had happened. Viktor was weary now, but he imagined Yuuri was worse for wear after today’s events. He leaned over and grabbed the tissue box, leafing a couple and regrettably cleaning off the evidence.

Yuuri’s hand stopped his gently this time, taking the tissues from him and wordlessly cleaning up for him. His free hand smoothed over Viktor’s abs, brushing over them with his knuckles. Wherever the skin pulled, he wiped again, grabbing new tissues when the old ones soaked through. He alternated just like that, attending to Viktor’s cock afterward with slow, light swipes, making sure that the lube was sufficiently wiped off. It was still sticky, and Viktor would probably need another shower, but he just lay there and took in the scene.

Yuuri wiped himself off last and put the wad of tissues on the coffee table. Viktor was waiting for Yuuri to get off of him, for them to separate like they always had.

But it didn’t happen. His instincts told him to move, but his mind argued against it, instead opting to hold his arms out to catch Yuuri as he slumped downward. Yuuri’s body lined up with his, Yuuri’s arms reciprocating the embrace and their legs tangling together. Viktor was slightly uncomfortable with the amount of sweat between his body and the leather couch, but he found that he didn’t care enough to move. Not when Yuuri looked serene, with his expression relaxed and his muscles drooping lazily.

It was a moment later that Viktor heard Yuuri’s breathing level out.

In hindsight, Viktor should have known that having the great Yuuri Katsuki in his arms would feel greater than anything in the world, the picture of perfection.

In hindsight, Viktor should have guarded himself, should have denied it since the beginning, that filming with Yuuri Katsuki would be a good idea.

When his phone lit up and he saw Yakov’s name on the screen, Viktor ignored it. Because this perfection, this spot of warmth in the middle of the winter in his mind, was the one thing Yakov said would never come of a relationship that stemmed from the work he did.

In hindsight, Viktor should have called Yakov to say “I told you so.” But he didn’t. He couldn’t find the energy, and didn’t want to, because he wanted this to himself for a little while. Wanted to keep Yuuri close to him for as long as he could, as selfish as it was.

Because he was in love with Yuuri Katsuki.

* * *

When Yuuri came to, it was to the steady, thumping rhythm in his ear, the rise and fall of something underneath him. He rubbed at his eyes, vision blurry without his glasses, willing something to come into focus. His mind was groggy, like he’d taken a nap for too long. He craned his neck upward to see Viktor, his face relaxed and looking somewhere off in the distance. Yuuri’s eyes glanced lower, realizing that Viktor’s body ran under his.

Yuui shot up instantly, startling Viktor into grasping him tight, eyes wide. “Viktor! I’m so, so sorry,” Yuuri tried to scramble away, his brain reaching for some sort of excuse, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I just— oh god, not again—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Viktor had a hand on Yuuri’s cheek, fingers grazing wildfires into his skin, “it’s okay, Yuuri. Calm down.”

“Calm _down?_ I—”

“— had fun, hopefully?” Viktor finished for him, although it wasn’t what Yuuri had meant to say at all. But Viktor was smiling up at him, the corners of his lips pulling upward endearingly, and Yuuri stopped trying to escape. Yuuri had seen this smile before, and it hadn’t been on camera. It was a familiar sight, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the only one who’s seen it.

It calmed him, oddly enough.

“I— yeah. Yeah, I did,” Yuuri admitted, swallowing before meeting Viktor’s eye again. “D-Did… did you?”

Viktor sighed then, half in reverence and half with something resembling disbelief. He fell back, relaxing into the couch’s throw pillows. His hair was mussed, splayed out in contrast, and his eyes were half-lidded. “The most fun I’ve had in a long time. You did well, Yuuri.”

“What?” That… was not what Yuuri was expecting. Not for his first time attempting proper seduction. “No criticisms this time?”

Viktor hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes glancing to the side and his lips pursing at the thought. “There might have been some, but I forgot to take notes.”

Yuuri smirked, willing to play along. “Really? Your hands were free for most of the time, from what I saw.”

Viktor just stared blankly, caught. He sat himself up, settling them so that while Yuuri was still naked in his lap, he was now sitting up with Viktor. Despite what they’d just done, Yuuri felt a tinge of heat on the tops of his cheeks.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor said, voice strained with the effort it took to move both of them, “you have no idea how much of a distraction you are.”

While Yuuri wanted to quip back with something equally witty, his tongue felt inadequate. Especially when Viktor’s tongue curled around Yuuri’s name like a snake coiled up tight. Yuuri liked it. He liked it a lot. It was simple, barely a handful of syllables, but Viktor made it sound like a thousand pleasing words at once. It made Yuuri want to kiss those lips, to see what else they could say, but he held back. Just like he did earlier. He knew better.

After staring longer than necessary, Viktor tapped at Yuuri’s thigh. “C’mon, let’s get dressed.”

Yuuri wanted to say no, wanted to keep Viktor underneath him, because he knew as soon as they stood, the moment would be over. But they were still Viktor and Yuuri, and Yuuri was okay with that. He only hoped that Viktor liked it enough to warrant a second time at some point in the near future.

They got dressed separately, eyes flitting to hard lines and curved shapes, but otherwise not interacting. Which made perfect sense to Yuuri, since no lovers ever redressed each other. It just didn’t happen.

_Wait_ — too far. Yuuri and Viktor were _not_ lovers. Far from it. What happened was practice, was Yuuri training to get better at filming sex. It was him trying to have fun for his last few weeks.

That was what he told himself, and he wanted to convince himself that there was no other way to look at it. He would end up hurt if he thought of them as anything resembling lovers.

Loving a pornstar would never work.

Once they’re dressed, Viktor having combed his hair back into its perfect part and erasing any evidence of what they did, Viktor walked into the kitchen. Yuuri followed, not really knowing what to do with a one night stand that didn’t last a night.

“Coffee?” Viktor asked over his shoulder. Yuuri agreed politely.

Viktor was searching through his cupboards, eyeing this and that and frowning. “I’m out of coffee grounds. Would you like me to go get some down the street for us?”

Yuuri was about to decline because, really, that was too much effort on Viktor’s part. Yuuri didn’t need coffee that badly. He’d rather have tea, in all honesty, but he had agreed to coffee so that he didn’t have to inconvenience Viktor.

Then he heard a faint scratching noise, a low whine, from somewhere in the back of the apartment. Probably Makkachin from Viktor’s room. When was he put in there? How long?

An idea popped into his head.

“Why don’t we both go and bring Makkachin with us?” Yuuri asked. “He sounds like he needs a walk. I’ll go get him—”

“— I can do that, Yuuri,” Viktor butted in, brushing past Yuuri toward the hallway, opening his door and letting the poodle bound out of the room straight for Yuuri.

This time, he was prepared for the attack of fluff, for the large paws and giant, slobbery tongue. He caught Makkachin mid-jump, teetering backwards before regaining his balance, giggling happily. He nearly let it slide that Viktor had looked back into his room, checking something, and closed the door, a guarded look on his face.

Makkachin barked, shifting Yuuri’s attention. He set the dog down, rubbing the ache in the small of his back and ruffling the fur between the poodle’s ears. Viktor came back to them, a smile wide on his face, pushing his cheeks upward. They got their shoes and coats on, leashed Makkachin, and headed out.

It was the same coffee shop they had walked into the first time, relatively empty even though it was around noon. Most of the patrons that were there were either too old or too young to care about the others around them. No one looked at Viktor this time, except to admire his dog, and Yuuri took a fresh breath of aromatic coffee beans and wooden benches knowing that he didn’t have to watch his back.

Not long after they got their coffee— Viktor having paid for Yuuri once again despite his protests— a waitress came by their table and set down a bowl.

Yuuri peered in, confused. “I’m sorry, we didn’t order anything else.”

“Oh,” the waitress waved it off, “we got a shipment of the wrong type of cherries, so we’re setting them out for everyone to snack on, free of charge.”

“Well, thank you, then,” Viktor flashed a charming smile at the waitress, causing her to blush and mutter thank you as she walked away. He then popped a cherry into his mouth, plucking the stem and placing it on a napkin.

He crunched, wincing, and spat out the pit. “What—?”

Yuuri quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve never had a cherry before?”

Viktor eyed Yuuri as if he made a bad joke. “Only the kinds that go on milkshakes,” he muttered as he picked another cherry and ate it more carefully, “but these taste fine too. The pit’s just annoying to deal with.”

“You poor soul,” Yuuri cooed, picking a cherry for himself and tossing it into his mouth. He stored it in his cheek, testing the skin and finding the spot he needed. It took a moment, but he spat out the seed into his palm, clean of any remnants of cherry. Then he showed Viktor the cherry, still whole, as it peeked out from between his lips.

Viktor started, would have done a double take if it wasn’t obvious already. “How’d you do that?”

Yuuri sucked the cherry back in and ate it. He smirked after swallowing, watching Viktor eye him with something akin to wonder. “You just have to have a good tongue,” Yuuri explained, feeling cheeky, “I can tie the stem into a knot, too.”

Viktor still looked confused. “Why would you do that?”

If Yuuri had had anything in his mouth at that point, he might have choked. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how the world’s greatest pornstar _didn’t_ know about the cherry stem trick. “You’ve lived in the US _how long_ and you’ve never heard about knotting a cherry stem?”

“No,” Viktor pouted, looking put out, “why would anyone put a cherry stem in their mouth in the first place?”

Yuuri had to look out the window to catch his bearings. This had to be a joke. He was not about to explain this to a pornstar. Sucking in a breath, he shook his head and returned his gaze to Viktor, who looked more childish than ever.

“They say that if you can tie a cherry stem into a knot in your mouth, you’re a good kisser,” Yuuri said, sure that his cheeks were turning bright red once again.

Viktor blinked, seemingly taking the information in, then his mouth formed into that ridiculous heart shape and Yuuri could feel the excitement rolling off of him in waves. “That sounds like fun! Let me try!”

Yuuri gestured to the bowl of cherries, not inhibiting Viktor in the slightest. A man as handsome as Viktor surely had enough know-how in kissing to be able to get it right in a couple tries, so why not? Maybe he could challenge him to see who could do it faster.

That idea slowly changed the longer that the stem was in Viktor’s mouth. His eyebrows were knit together, his nose scrunching and lips pursing as he swished from side to side, even occasionally tilting his head and grunting when something didn’t go right. Yuuri did his best to keep a straight face, but the way Viktor’s face would twist like he was eating something sour was getting the better of him. Viktor finally took out the stem with a huff of frustration. It was bent and bitten beyond use.

Yuuri cracked, giggles becoming light laughter as Viktor stared at him hard.

“There’s no way anyone can do that,” Viktor insisted. “Show me.”

Yuuri’s laugh subsided and he shrugged, easily up to the challenge already knowing what the outcome would be. He rummaged through the cherries they had left and picked one with a nice, long stem that didn’t flake off at the end. He plucked it, leaving the cherry in the bowl, and went to work. It took a second to remember the motions, being a little rusty after going so long not needing to use this skill, but he had it down quickly.

Yuuri had been challenged once when he first entered college, at some party Phichit had dragged him to as a “Welcome to America” sort of thing. When he failed, he was determined to figure out how to do it, more for the thrill of competition than anything. He practiced embarrassingly often, but it paid off. At a different party later on he was challenged again, everyone looking for a good laugh. He surprised them by revealing the knot after a minute’s work. Needless to say, many asked for a private session with him afterwards.

Goaded by Phichit, but still embarrassed by the brazen propositions, Yuuri gave a few of them a shot. It was awkward at first, not having done it before, but soon he found himself enjoying it. Locking lips, of course, was nothing like knotting a cherry stem, but by then it wasn’t worth mentioning. Making out was fun, and Yuuri prided himself on being rather good at it. Too bad Yakov didn’t allow for it.

Finished, Yuuri pulled the stem past his lips to reveal a double knot pulled tight. Looking from the stem to Viktor, he beamed with accomplishment. Viktor’s face slowly flushed a brilliant pink. Prettier than any pink Yuuri had ever seen. So much so that in that moment, with their coffees steaming between them and the subdued bustling sounds of the shop around them, Yuuri admitted to himself that Viktor was quite possibly the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. Eyelashes fluttering over his dusted-pink cheeks, sea glass eyes starry with awe, Viktor looked just as perfect as he had when he was pinned in between Yuuri’s thighs. Even in vastly different contexts, Viktor was truly amazing. Yuuri could see how people could fall left and right for him.

Yuuri never thought much about falling for anyone. It never seemed like the right time. Maybe once he was home he could spend more time actively looking. Date around, find someone he could see falling for. But that would have to wait for now.

For now, he was here in a coffee shop with Viktor, enjoying his enraptured surprise.

Viktor recovered, clearing his throat and throwing on a smirk. “Well, I think we both already knew the kind of tongue skills you had, Yuuri,” he said with a wink for good measure, referencing what had occurred in reality only a couple hours ago.

Yuuri nodded noncommittally, still feeling the burning ache in his legs. He didn’t deny it, and he didn’t regret it either. Both times today told Yuuri where he was weak, what he needed to work on. And he was eager to keep trying, over and over, until he got it right. He would do it as often as it took.

A cell phone ring threw both of them off, Viktor digging into his coat pocket to glance at his screen. He tapped and held it to his ear. “Hey, Chris,” he greeted, looking out at the street with a finger in his other ear to listen better.

Yuuri turned away too, pretending not to listen, but failing miserably.

“At the coffee shop down the street, why?” Viktor responded to the unheard voice.

Yuuri’s eyes scanned the streets, concern starting to gnaw at the edges of his mind. This coffee shop wasn’t too far from the studio, so if anyone from the studio came walking through by chance, they would be spotted. He had to repeat it to himself that it wouldn’t matter. That it shouldn’t matter. Coworkers went out to get coffee all the time. Especially after fucking each other on camera.

Normal, everyday things.

Viktor barked a laugh, still respectful in tone, bringing Yuuri’s focus back toward him. “You have no idea,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Yuuri wasn’t sure he had ever seen Viktor being— well, not _nervous,_ but— apprehensive?

“Yeah,” Viktor answered, “yeah. Something came up. We can catch up after we film, okay? Drinks on me?”

Yuuri had this feeling simmering in his gut that he was simultaneously embarrassed and intrigued by, keeping Viktor from his commitments. Although it was a bad thing, technically, he secretly liked it. Stealing Viktor away from others. But he knew he couldn’t do it forever. Viktor still had to film with people other than him. Yuuri couldn’t monopolize him.

And although he trusted Viktor not to let it slip what they did today, or may even continue to do, he was still bothered, tense. His mind supplied all the ways it could go wrong, get out, ruin either of their lives, and he bit his lip at the prospect no matter how slim the chance.

Viktor sighed. “Let me get Makkachin home first, okay?”

A moment passed. “Bye,” he said as he ended the phone call.

Viktor put his phone away, letting out a breath as if he’d been holding it the entire time. “I’ve gotta—”

“I understand,” Yuuri resigned. “I should be getting back home, anyway. Phichit could be losing his hair right about now.”

Viktor chuckled. “I think Yakov knows that feeling.”

“Only because of you,” Yuuri pointed out, to which Viktor acquiesced with a shrug and an easy smile that Yuuri returned.

They sat there, sharing that smile while a silence came over them. A silence that was as awkward as it was warm, because yes, they were smiling at each other and their bodies were light, but their hearts were heavy and they didn’t want to leave despite the inevitable that would force them to separate otherwise. Yuuri shook it off with with a thick swallow, breaking eye contact first.

Viktor stood, then, whistling to get Makkachin’s attention from under the table. “I’ll see you on Thursday, then. Right?”

Yuuri took a second to think about that statement before remembering he was talking about their job. He nodded solemnly. “I’ll see you then.”

Viktor didn’t make a move to leave, though, choosing to stand where he was, glancing at Yuuri. He opened his mouth, bit his lip, then decided on something. “Text me if you need me.”

“Bye, Viktor,” Yuuri waved, and with that wave he sent every word left unsaid, every word he didn’t know how to say, or wasn’t sure if he could say. He sent his regards, his best wishes. He sent his hope for more and he sent his desire to see him again. And _soon_.

“Bye, my Yuuri,” Viktor replied, waving in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like I said last chapter, I start my full-time job tomorrow! I'm super anxious and writing fic helped take the edge off. ^^
> 
> Wish me luck and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)


	12. Someone To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was unprecedented, how many times Yuuri believed he could have died from the amount of blood that rushed to his face.
> 
> It was also unprecedented, how much Viktor did for Yuuri without asking for anything in return.
> 
> Alternatively, it's a Russian thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back everyone! After a full month of adulting and going to a real job that sucked away all of my free time! YAY!
> 
> This chapter was originally combined with the next one, totally easily over 25k, so I split it. Good news about that is the next update won't take another month to arrive ^^;
> 
> (Meanwhile here's [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sm72hbk4E0c) I listened to while writing this!)

_My Yuuri_. Viktor said _my Yuuri._ As in he, Yuuri Katsuki, was Viktor’s Yuuri.

It was probably a Russian thing, some informality in the language he wasn’t familiar with. It meant nothing. It sounded nice, clearer than the audio text he’d received and more affectionate than anyone speaking should ever have the right to be. The rounded syllables had easily rolled off of Viktor’s tongue, curling past his perfect pink lips, pronounced wrong and right all at once. It was endearing.

But probably endearingly nothing.

That’s what Yuuri told himself as he sipped the rest of his lukewarm coffee and pondered over whether or not Phichit would have something planned for dinner that night.

Yuuri spent the next day glaring at his script in an attempt to memorize through sheer eye strain. The resulting headache would surely mean that some of the information went through, cramming its way to find some free space, and he would deliver all of his lines perfectly.

He never claimed to like science in college.

It probably also did not help that this script involved non-sex acting scenes— the first part of what seemed to be a full film. Daunting.

Phichit had attempted to help him on several occasions; over coffee or while they played video games, even trying to initiate lines on their walks to the grocery store, much to Yuuri’s dismay. And as if that weren’t bad enough, Phichit’s face could never be still, and nothing seriously productive came of it. At nearly every line, Phichit would waggle his eyebrows or subtly make lewd finger gestures.

But that wasn’t the worst. The absolute worst was the one part they never managed to get past.

Well. _Yuuri_ never managed to get past it.

“C’mon, Yuuri,” Phichit goaded, “just think of it like any other normal type of dirty talk. Besides, it’s porn. You’re _acting_.”

“Barely,” Yuuri muttered, still not budging.

Phichit shrugged, off-guard. “True. But all you have to do is call him Daddy a couple times. It can’t be—”

“Phichit!” Yuuri interrupted, a blush high on his cheeks, which was not a rarity when going over lines like this. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

Phichit pursed his lips, a devilish gleam in his eye. “So... what you’re saying is that I _shouldn’t_ call you Daddy? Duly noted.”

Yuuri’s head fell into his hands, also not for the first time. “Phichit, seriously, stop.”

No response.

The moment Yuuri decided to lift his head and peek at the suddenly silent Phichit was the moment he most regretted in his life. Phichit had the widest grin on his face, his scheming complete. “Sorry, _Daddy_ ,” Phichit cooed, “spank me, _Daddy._ ”

It took all of Yuuri’s might to keep his face deadpanned, despite the colors blooming across his face. “You’re fired.”

“From what?”

“From being my roommate,” Yuuri slammed the metaphorical gavel.

Phichit never looked paler. He dramatically clutched his heart and lip-synced a long, drawn-out _nooooo_ before falling against the table in their kitchen. Then proceeded to sob. Yuuri rolled his eyes.

In the silence immediately after, Yuuri’s phone buzzed against the smooth grain of the table. Phichit’s head sprang upward like a dog hearing its food packet opening.

They both looked at each other, looked at the phone, looked back at each other.

Yuuri got a very familiar, sinking feeling deep in his bones. “Don’t you—”

Phichit’s hands were on the phone, a cobra snatching its prey. Yuuri stood up, his chair knocking over as he lunged across the table with an arm outstretched, but Phichit was leaning away, his back arching over the chair like his dancer’s body had been trained to do. All the while he was unlocking the phone and opening the message app and—

“Oh,” Phichit attempted to hide the snort he made, eyes flitting from the phone to Yuuri and back. “That is... uh,” he struggled not to laugh, “that is quite forward of him.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri stomped around the table and grabbed the phone away from his hands, something usually done with more effort than what it took that time. Normally Phichit had a death grip on all things social and technological.

Yuuri glared at his roommate before glancing back down at the message that awaited him.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_[Sent picture of a movie poster titled: Dick Wars]_ _  
I wanted to ask if you’ve felt the Force but something tells me you’ve already experienced it from this Jedi ;)_

“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathed out, eyes roaming over the poster guiltily. Vitya was on it, front and center, eyeing the viewer with a seductive smile that would have been— _should_ have been— cheesy and bad had it been anyone else. His eyes were lidded and his hair was slicked back, a fake, tiny braid peeking out from behind one ear. He was wearing oddly form-fitting robes for what the job of a real Jedi actually entailed, further leading Yuuri to the conclusion that this was, in fact, a full production of pornography.

Not that he hadn’t already watched the parody of the second installment a couple years back: _The Cocks Thrust Back._ Chris had been in it too, as well as some other nameless actors that Yuuri hadn’t cared about if they weren’t immediately filming with Vitya.

That didn’t mean that the text wasn’t completely out of context, because it was quite possibly the most random thing he had ever seen Viktor send, and that said something.

“Are you gonna answer?” Phichit sat up, intrigued.

“Uh,” Yuuri started with a spot of brilliance. “I don’t think I know how. He’s never sent stuff like this before.”

Phichit let out a short hum, amused. “Interesting, considering it’s his line of work. But since you’re clearly struggling, I’m hiring myself back as your roommate and helping you out. First: you should send him a pun of equal or greater value. It’s important to establish dominance.”

“You’re fired again,” Yuuri shoved Phichit’s shoulder as he made his way over to the couch, tapping absently at his phone’s screen.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** _  
_ _Is... is this a Star Wars parody???_

As if he didn’t already know.

“As if you didn’t already know that,” Phichit voiced his thoughts, startling Yuuri by appearing at his side on the couch and staring disapprovingly at his phone. “You’ve watched that one like five times at least. All the way through. Why don’t you just tell him you’re a fan? I’m sure he’d be flattered.”

Yuuri just shrugged, but didn’t actively try to push Phichit away. He knew Phichit was only trying to help. He gestured to their controllers and Phichit understood, tossing one to Yuuri and turning on the console.

While the game loaded, Yuuri received another text. Phichit looked over pointedly, asking silent permission. Yuuri rolled his eyes and opened the text so that they could both see it.

 **_Viktor:_ ** _  
_ _Obviously. I hear this Sith would love to convert you to the dark side. ;)_

Yuuri set his phone down on the table face down. “Phichit, I am not answering these. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

Phichit picked the phone back up, reading the text over again. “He’s clearly making the move on you, Yuuri. It’s about time, really. I would’ve done it as soon as you agreed to film porn together.”

“Phichit, I’m—” another buzz. They both looked down instantly.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_Too cheesy?_ _  
How about ‘I bet my starfighter could thrust inside your thermal port.’ ;)_

“Oh my god,” Yuuri groaned, the words now a familiar shape on his lips, “Phichit, I am seriously _not_ answering these.”

Phichit stared at him, and Yuuri took note that his roommate was still very much in possession of his phone, so it wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t going to answer. Phichit would without a doubt text Viktor for him.

“You gotta,” Phichit insisted.

Another message. Phichit raised an eyebrow. “This is the thirstiest pornstar I have ever met.”

 **_Viktor:_ ** _  
_ _C’mon, I was proud of that one._

Yuuri groaned.

Phichit just laughed. “As he should be, that was a good one. Definitely saving it for later,” he said as he starred the message.

“Not helping,” Yuuri said as he took his phone back once again.

“I can’t help it if I don’t know what our goal is here,” Phichit threw his hands up in mock frustration, “you have to tell me what you want to come from this, Yuuri. What do you want to gain from exchanging sexy puns?”

If it were anyone else, Yuuri would have answered something akin to leaving the conversation as quickly as possible. But because it was Viktor, because _of course it was Viktor_ , Yuuri found himself hesitating. It was a joke of a question, but it twisted the wrong way in Yuuri’s gut. He wanted Viktor to see him as an equal, he figured, or at least someone who wasn’t awful at sex. He wanted to be good at something, since clearly years of dance had never paid off.

Winning a few competitions meant so little in the ballet world that Yuuri probably couldn’t have justified continuing even without his gigantic screw up.

“You’re thinking way too much for this simple a question,” Phichit observed.

Before Yuuri could fall deeper into that hole, he collected himself. “Alright, fine. You win. What pun do I send?”

Phichit whispered it into his ear.

“No!” Yuuri yelled. “I am not sending that!”

“You accepted my help!” Phichit pointed out. “You have to do as I say now!”

“I’m not typing that, no, not in a thousands years.”

“Fine. Gimme,” Phichit took the phone back, typed and sent the message before Yuuri could protest again. “There.”

 **_Yuuri:_ **  
_Idk if your thruster can hit my port, though. It needs to be done just right._ _  
Do you think you can handle it?_

“Phichit,” Yuuri whined as he gripped his phone tight, noticeably shaking, “that sounds nothing like me.”

Phichit just shrugged, smirking. “That’s what you get when you don’t let me pun properly. But it’ll get the job done. Or he’ll get the job done. You know what I mean.”

Another buzz and a collection of letters on the screen had both Yuuri and Phichit puzzled.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_Oh shit you answered back_  
_I did not think you were gonna go along with it_  
_Gig’s up_  
_You caught me_

“Caught him?” Yuuri asked.

Phichit hushed him. “He’s typing,” he hissed with an intensity that Yuuri found unwarranted, but Phichit was always excited about this sort of thing.

The next message that came in was something neither of them suspected— a photo. Chris was at the forefront of the selfie, with Viktor in the background, both in similar long-robed costumes that showed off more than was ever necessary for clothing to still be considered clothing. Nevertheless, Viktor was oblivious to the picture, staring down at—

“Is—” Phichit gawked “—is that his dick?”

Vitya was staring down at what was— most definitely— his dick covered in what seemed to be glow in the dark paint.

The picture was captioned: _it’s Chris and your Jedi knight is over here dicking around with the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy, no big deal._

Phichit was the first to recover, laughing uncontrollably as he fell back onto the couch, pausing their game that had long been abandoned. “Oh— my— _GOD_ —” he managed before collapsing into giggles again.

Yuuri just sat there, crimson cheeks burning his skin all the way to the bone. He was just sent an inadvertent dick pick. And by Chris, no doubt. It didn’t even look like Viktor knew Chris had his phone.

At least it was Viktor’s dick that was sent. Yuuri winced at the other prospect that it could have been. He was mostly sure that Chris wouldn’t be one to do that, but at the same time, he did just send several sexual innuendos. Everything was up in the air at this point.

So Yuuri had to beat Chris at his own game. In a surge of confidence that he was sure would be gone as soon as he sent this, he typed out a reply.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** _  
_ _Well I’ve been on the receiving end of his Force and can say that anyone who meets it will be *hard-pressed* to be disappointed about how he wields it. ;)_

As it turned out, Yuuri was right. He stared at the speech bubble that _he_ just typed out _and sent,_ a wave of mild panic beginning to rise inside of him.

Phichit, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows in surprise as he leaned over to read it, practically fell off the couch. “Yuuri! That’s so dirty!”

Yuuri gave up his phone, handing it to Phichit. “Don’t let me take charge like that ever again.”

Phichit narrowed his eyes in question. “But why? It’s perfect, Yuuri! You should act like that more often. I’m sure Viktor digs it.”

“We’ve been texting Chris this entire time, Phichit!” Yuuri reminded him. “Viktor probably hasn’t seen any of these.”

“Does that mean you want him to see them?” Phichit asked, twisting Yuuri’s words playfully.

Before Yuuri could begin to formulate an answer to that, Phichit gasped and smacked his shoulder. “ _Yuuri_. We have to send a selfie back.”

“I’m not covering my dick in glow in the dark paint,” Yuuri insisted, still hesitant about following Phichit’s advice.

Phichit pouted, over-exaggerating his disappointment. “Alright, fine. How about next time?” He sounded almost hopeful, like it was a dream of his to see Yuuri with glow in the dark paint all over his body.

“Phichit.”

Phichit attempted to wiggle his eyebrows but just laughed instead, leaning against Yuuri such that Yuuri could feel the laughter emanating from Phichit’s chest. Faced with such incredible pressure and a lack of defense, Yuuri began laughing, too, holding Phichit up so that they both didn’t fall off the couch.

There was a buzz from Yuuri’s phone that shocked them both, spines going straight. Phichit recovered first and picked up the phone. “It’s an audio.”

Yuuri didn’t have to tell Phichit twice to play it.

Chris’s voice crackled over the tinny speakers and they curled in close, turning up the volume. It was breathy, wheezing even, like he hadn’t stopped laughing yet. Then he quoted Yuuri’s text to a T, laughing harder.

Then there was shuffling in the background.

“ _Chris? What’re you_ — _Chris! Gimme that back!_ ”

“ _That’s not my name, Vitya Skythruster,_ ” Chris’s voice lilted teasingly.

“ _Chris, I am not calling you Hand Solo, but that is what you’ll be filming if you don’t give me back my phone,_ ” Viktor warned, although he didn’t necessarily sound angry. Or peeved. There was a light laugh that Yuuri recognized, his heart doing a tiny flip despite the distortion from his phone’s speakers.

“ _Oh shit_ —” the audio cut out as Chris likely stumbled over something while cackling, causing a loud crash before it ended.

Yuuri didn’t hold back his giggle, especially not with Phichit snorting beside him.

“They’re almost as bad as us.”

“Worse,” Yuuri agreed.

When nothing else happened, they continued their game that had been paused so long that they forgot what they were doing. It was a pleasant distraction, and Phichit didn’t mention what they’d seen again after that. Because it wasn’t like neither of them hadn’t seen Vitya’s dick before. Yuuri and Phichit had gotten into a late night tipsy discussion about their porn viewing habits several times throughout college, and Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if he’d shown off several clips at some point. Regardless, Yuuri was glad Phichit kept silent on the matter.

Too invested in their game, Phichit ordered pizza while they started another round. Pizza crusts hung from their lips as they chewed distractedly, controller buttons mashing furiously. Yuuri never noticed the messages that buzzed, the game’s music overpowering his peripheral senses.

It wasn’t until Phichit quit for the night and retired to his room that Yuuri had the chance to glance down at his phone.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_I’m sorry about Chris /( >_<)\ _  
_He likes to joke around on my phone so I didn’t think anything of it when he took it_  
_I SHOULD HAVE WORRIED_  
_Although some of these are gold. Saving for later ;)_ _  
Yuuri?_

Yuuri was ashamed he hadn’t answered once again. A bad habit. He texted back from the comfort of being cocooned in the blanket Phichit had given him during a pause in the game.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** _  
_ _If you think you’re going to use those on me (again), you might want to rethink what kind of answer you should expect from me_

He knew Viktor would try and use a line anyway, that was just who he was, but he could at least attempt to dissuade him.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Oh? Are you saying that you_ **_wouldn’t_ ** _fuck a Jedi with a powerful lightsaber? ;)_

If the knowing smirk on Yuuri’s face was anything to go by, no such luck. If he couldn’t dissuade him, Yuuri might as well attempt to seduce him. That was what Viktor had asked for, after all. Yuuri could play that game. Had been playing the game so far. He could keep it up.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _The power comes from the Force, not the lightsaber. ;) ;)_

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Touche_ _  
_ _Hey Yuuri._

Yuuri couldn’t be sure, but it felt like the tone suddenly shifted. Not sure what to answer, he waited.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _About what happened on Monday..._

There it was. Yuuri gulped, the lump in his throat increasing his size with each breath he tried to take. He tried to reason with his brain that this wasn’t anything crucial. That this was nothing until Viktor said something that indicated otherwise. Maybe Viktor remembered his criticisms from the day before. Like how Yuuri never changed positions or couldn’t keep up the pace or blocked hypothetical camera views. That could be it.

The dots that signaled Viktor’s typing popped up.

Or it could be Viktor telling him that they shouldn’t do private practices anymore because it interfered somehow. Maybe the extra orgasms made it more difficult for when Viktor had to record other films. That would make sense. Yuuri could back off on that front. There were other ways to seduce someone.

The dots disappeared. Reappeared for a time, and disappeared again. Yuuri began to sweat. A deep but shaky breath sounded distant, foreign to his ears.

Or it was Viktor trying to find a way to gently tell Yuuri that he didn’t want to film with him anymore. That they weren’t going to work out and that Yuuri was being let go from the company and that he would be jobless again and that he was going to be kicked out of the apartment early and be homeless for his last month in the U.S. and—

Yuuri’s breath stuttered as he prayed with all his might that his brain was just lying to him.

The dots appeared again. They stayed there for longer, this time. Yuuri bit down hard on his lip in anticipation.

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _We should work on the deepthroating._ _  
_ _[Sent picture]_

Yuuri squinted, lifting his glasses in the hopes that the picture would come in clearer. It seemed to be a close-up shot, but of what he had trouble deciphering. He took the other text into account and tilted his head. Then he saw it.

Viktor still had bite marks on his penis.

And since Yuuri didn’t suck Viktor’s dick twice that day, he knew Viktor wasn’t referencing what had happened at the apartment. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Yuuri awoke to the sounds of elephants stampeding all around him.

“Yuuri!” Someone called out. “Yuuri, you have to get up!”

Yuuri ran, praying he wouldn’t be stepped on, huffing and panting and nearing certain death—

“YUURI!” His bedroom door opened and he stood rod-straight and Phichit looked red in the face.

“WHAT,” Yuuri yelled back, chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead. The elephants were nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in danger— well, not from elephants at least.

Phichit looked around his room, frantically searching for something he apparently didn’t find. “Why are you still asleep? Where’s your suitcase? Haven’t you packed yet? I know you always waited ‘til the last minute with competitions but _come on_ , Yakov paid for this! You can’t just—”

“What?” Yuuri replied, trying to take in all of Phichit’s words at once. Even normally speaking, Phichit rushed, but this English was a whole different level. “What are you talking about? Packing for _what_?”

Phichit nearly had steam blowing out of his ears, as distraught and blindsighted as he was. “Did you not check your email at all this week?”

It seemed like such a dumb question. “I’m not in school anymore why would I check—”

“Yakov was able to book an _actual_ beach for your next— _how_ did you not check your email?” Phichit was exasperated. “He emailed all the people he’d use for the shoot with our tickets— we’re supposed to be at the airport in half an hour!”

Yuuri cursed under his breath and got out of bed, his boxers having slipped down one hip in the night and coming close to dropping the rest of the distance to the floor. Not that anything would have been visible if they did, considering the oversized sweater he had thrown on late last night because he was too stubborn to turn up the heat.

He rubbed his eyes, hearing shuffling and scraping and zippers from his closet. When he put on his glasses and looked over, he saw Phichit eyeing his clothing and tossing what he deemed appropriate into one of Yuuri’s open suitcases. He shifted his weight to another foot, feeling just a little bit useless.

Turning on his laptop, he opened up his email and, sure enough, there were several group emails from Yakov about a change in venue. Another company had a private beach venue available for them to use for a scene for their next full adult movie sequence— in California— for tomorrow. He glanced at the ticket confirmation that sent panic through his veins, numbing his senses.

They were all supposed to meet at the gate in half an hour.

Yuuri closed his laptop and grabbed the chargers he needed. Turning around, he found that Phichit had already zipped his suitcase shut. It looked full.

“It said we’re only supposed to be there until Friday, Phichit,” Yuuri pointed out, “what’s with all this?”

“Oh, _now_ you read the email?” Phichit put a hand on his hip. “Just making sure you’re prepared. Oh, speaking of being prepared, if you’re bottoming, you should bring a plug or two.”

Yuuri pulled out his box of toys, seeing as Phichit wouldn’t buy that he didn’t have any. They lived with each other far too long to hide that stuff. He dug around in the box and pulled out two from a set he’d bought ages ago. Phichit whistled from behind him, but Yuuri ignored him.

“So you’re helping film?” Yuuri asked as he opened up the suitcase and paused, wondering if these would be seen by security. Thrumming his fingers against the leather, he decided he didn’t have the time to worry and shoved the plugs deep inside among the various clothes.

“Yeah, I’m helping smooth over camera work because the other company has their own camera people— they wanna do sample clips or something,” Phichit was glancing around the rooms of the apartment, patting his pockets, checking his phone, checking the clock, adding something together in his mind before shaking it. “Hurry up, Yuuri. We can talk later. But right now? We gotta run.”

Yuuri stuffed some last minute items for a carry on into his backpack without really looking and scrambled out the door after Phichit— who was already holding open a beeping elevator door.

* * *

Yuuri nearly tripped over himself running across the stretch from the platform onto the plane and almost barreling into the side of the door to the cabin. Phichit wasn’t far behind. A spooked flight attendant came up and showed them to the back, urging them to their seats before closing off the plane.

They would have been on time for their plane had the entire load of weather delays not occurred, forcing their entire group to be moved up a flight. Security had been so shocked to find two young adults sprinting through that they barely had time to do their jobs correctly. Yuuri felt sort of awful to be _that_ person, but at this point, he didn’t care.

Having so many people transferred to an earlier flight, however, guaranteed that seating was rearranged. Yuuri and Phichit passed by Mila in one row of the business class and Yakov and Georgi in another row. At the first row of coach, a bored Chris was bemoaning to a frowning Viktor.

But when Yuuri appeared through the curtain, Viktor’s face changed. There was an immediate smile and bloom of color to his features, and suddenly he didn’t look so lethargic.

“Yuuri! You made it!” Viktor beamed before scowling sternly. “But you were nearly late. Now we don’t get to sit together on this terribly long flight.”

“It’s only five hours,” Phichit said as he walked up behind Yuuri.

“That’s like five years in economic class time,” Viktor pouted. “These seats take more from your life than you think. Who can sit in these and feel comfortable?”

“I don’t see why they couldn’t put us in first like we were for the original flight,” Chris agreed, dramatically letting his head fall onto Viktor’s shoulders. “How are we to survive without our pillows and wine?”

Yuuri glanced to the person fated to sit next to a pornstar moaning and groaning for the next five hours— and not even in the pleasurable way. He was middle-aged and reading some magazine, earplugs in and ignoring the world. Yuuri guessed that the man wouldn’t necessarily like to be inconvenienced by being asked to change seats. Yuuri looked back to Viktor and shrugged in condolence, walking past and finding his seat a few rows back. Luckily, Phichit was seated next to him.

Not much could be said about the flight other than the usual— it was noisy, cold, and Viktor could be heard either whining or pouting from any part of the plane. Even the cockpit, Yuuri imagined. Poor pilots.

When they landed, Yuuri and Phichit among the many others in their flight began shuffling off the plane awkwardly. Viktor shoved his way through until he was right behind Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” Viktor drawled low, “why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Yuuri paused, causing Viktor to bump into him. “How would I have texted you? We were flying.”

“You didn’t pay for the Wi-Fi?” Viktor asked before someone barked at them to get a move on.

Yuuri reshouldered his bag and kept walking, looking straight ahead to the back of Phichit’s head. “That would have required money I didn’t want to spend.”

Viktor didn’t say anything, or at least Yuuri didn’t hear anything, so he assumed things were settled at that point. Once in the airport, Yuuri connected his phone and checked his messages. Naturally, there were several from Viktor.

By several, Yuuri meant there were over a hundred messages. And checking by the time stamps, that meant Viktor had been holding back occasionally.

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Yuuri! How’s your seat?_  
_I wish we’d been able to sit together_  
_I need to drill you on lines ;)_  
_Or just you in general ;)_  
_That was Chris again I swear_  
_I’d be careful around him, I think he’s trying to seduce you_  
_Yuuri?_   
We do need to go over lines together though! We haven’t worked on this one together yet and we really should. We only get tomorrow to film this entire stretch and Yakov would have our heads if it was wasted

There were other messages, but some of them blurred together as Yuuri kept looking up from his phone and tuning into the conversations of the rest of the people from the studio. For the sake of time and annoyance at trying to multitask, he skipped most of the messages until he got near the end. He’d go through the rest of them later.

A text with one word in all-caps stopped his scrolling, his attention piqued. He scrolled back up to find the origin of the topic.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_Chris is asleep and snoring_  
_He’s awful. I mean I love him but he’s awful_  
_I hope he’s not a cameraman for this one_  
_He likes to zoom in and ruin shots >:( _  
_Not even a digital zoom_  
_He MANUALLY zooms so close that the camera touches my ass_  
_“I’m just giving viewers what they want Vitya”_  
_Can’t they want more than just my ass?_  
_Or dick for that matter_  
_Well, I guess that’s what the industry’s about haha_  
_At least you’re not like that_  
_Thanks, Yuuri :)_  
_I hope these messages make you smile. I know they’re easing my boredom!_  
_I could never be bored with you, not with all the surprises you’ve thrown my way :)_  
_Ooooo looks like we’re landing soon!_  
_Wanna tour the city with me after we get to the hotel?_  
_It’s still early in the afternoon, I think_  
_Or maybe do you wanna stay in our room? ;)_  
_Hopefully we get to room together_  
_I have to disconnect from the Wi-Fi now :(_ _  
Goodbye for now, my Yuuri!_

That _my Yuuri_ again. It had to be a Russian thing. As much as Yuuri wanted to ask about it, to correct it, he sort of liked seeing that string of letters on his screen. He liked imagining Viktor’s tongue curling around the words, around his name. Around his—

A cough and the clearing of a throat. Yuuri looked up to find Yakov handing him a plastic card. “Here’s your room key. You’ll be with Georgi.”

Yuuri felt his face heat up a thousand degrees, embarrassed by where his unbridled thoughts were heading despite being in public. He took the card with a muttered thanks and finally gazed around his surroundings. The hotel was the one provided by the airport, so it hadn’t been that far of a walk. They never even went outside, which was probably the smart thing to do because Yuuri could already feel sweat beginning to collect underneath his sweater.

It was November. Almost December. How was it still so hot in LA?

And they were supposed to film outside all day tomorrow. Yuuri groaned inwardly and prayed that Phichit had packed them some sunscreen.

At the thought, Yuuri took notice of Viktor talking to Yakov about something. Arguing, from what it looked like, but that didn’t matter because they always looked like that when they were arguing. Another Russian thing.

But what Yuuri was really studying was Viktor’s skin. It was beyond pale, surpassing alabaster and approaching the blanket-soft white of clouds. It concerned him, that Viktor might burn terribly and force them to cut filming early. Sure, Yuuri had faith in him as a professional, but someone could only survive so long with the sun burning their skin to the color of a firetruck.

Viktor kept his distance as the group ambled through the hotel, each finding their respective rooms. Yuuri stole glances here and there, mostly because Viktor was usually surrounding him whenever they were both at the studio. Perhaps he wasn’t a people person during travel. Yuuri could identify with that. He definitely didn’t like dealing with much of anything after flights. He respected the distance.

Georgi and Yuuri opened their room door and began sighing in relief when the A/C blasted their faces. Yuuri picked a bed and plopped his suitcase onto it, followed soon by his tired body. He wasn’t sure why, but flights always had him falling asleep afterward. Never mattered how long the flight was, he was just always tired. That, and his body clock was telling him it was nearing the evening. The fact that it was only two in the afternoon had him throwing in the towel.

When Yuuri woke up from his impromptu nap, Georgi was reading a book. He said something about Phichit, Chris, and Viktor showing up and asking about him, but Yuuri was still groggy enough that he didn’t listen all that closely to the details. He walked into the adjoined bathroom and yawned. Taking off his glasses, he squinted at the mirror and grimaced at the indentations on his face from sleeping with them on. He splashed water onto his face and shook his hair out of its rat’s nest. Marginally better.

There was a knock on the open door frame. Yuuri looked up to see Georgi holding up his bag.

“I’m going to head out for a little while,” he explained. “The Do Not Disturb sign will be up. Just don’t lock me out all night, alright? We both have to be up early tomorrow.”

Yuuri blushed despite knowing that they had talked about this already. In order to save money, Yakov had everyone that was going room with someone, so privacy was an issue. With Yuuri having to film tomorrow, neither of them really wanted to deal with Yuuri locking himself in the bathroom for an awkward amount of time, particularly not with the paper thin walls of the place. Early on, they decided Georgi would go visit someone else, or go for a walk around the city, something so that they could spare each other the embarrassment.

“Yeah, alright,” Yuuri nodded, willing his nerves to calm again, “th-thanks, Georgi.”

Georgi dipped his head and did a short wave. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said as he walked out the main door, the lock clicking shut.

Georgi, even though he wasn’t directly involved in the industry, was more understanding than most, which was probably why Yakov had Yuuri room with him.

Yuuri had a few guesses as to why Yakov wouldn’t let him room with Viktor, but he didn’t aim to entertain them. The fact that Viktor pouted the entire way from the lobby to their rooms was probably proof enough. Still, Yuuri knew they were only in the next room over. Not that he wouldn’t see enough of Viktor all day tomorrow, anyway.

The idea of filming sex for a full day had been stressing Yuuri out in addition to the travel, too, so it was a probably a good idea to let himself acclimate to the place and setting on his own.

Yuuri supposed the first step was to lay on the bed with his pants off. Take the edge off. Do what he needed to do. Hope that he wouldn’t be sore sleeping with a plug in before being filmed getting pounded for several hours.

Yuuri had his shaky hands on his waistband, still uncomfortable with doing this sort of thing in a room that wasn’t his own. He shucked them off and stepped out of them, remembering to bring out the necessary items from his suitcase and pull up a video on his phone. He retrieved his two plugs, one larger than the other, the comfy pajamas that reminded him of home, and the—

The lube.

He didn’t bring lube.

His phone browser had already been opened to a preferred video, and he _didn’t_ have any lube. How was he supposed to prep for tomorrow?

No. No, no, no. Yuuri refused to be the reason an entire trip out to California was wasted. He looked through his toiletries and the samples from the hotel. Lotion could work, he guessed, but it was a tiny thing and there wasn’t much in it. Not enough to work himself open and keep a good-sized plug inside, and he didn’t really want to smell like a rosebush down there.

“Noooo, not this. Why?” Yuuri bit his lip and began pacing the room. “Why am I an idiot?”

Yuuri thrummed his fingers against the wood of the dresser, scuffed the side of a table with his toe on several occasions, and rustled about the hotel drawers. Maybe it was a hotel where instead of bibles in the nightstand drawer there would be packets of lube.

No such luck.

Yuuri wiped a hand down his face in frustration and growled. He stepped around the areas of the room a little harsher, his feet falling more heavily onto the carpet.

He could use spit, if it came right down to it. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he would be able to stretch. Tomorrow, he would just ask one of the crew to bring an extra tube. Or perhaps the company they were meeting with were going to supply them with extras. That would be nice.

But for tonight, spit and lotion were looking like his only options. Yuuri stripped down the rest of the way and resigned himself to the prospect of a sore ass for the next two days. He settled into the bed, plugged his earbuds in, and set to work reluctantly.

At least it was an old favorite. Vitya was on his knees, the first film since cutting his hair so he still had a younger charm to his face, and someone decent looking— it really didn’t matter because their face was hidden and Yuuri really only ever looked at Vitya— was holding him up across the chest while pounding into him. Vitya’s cock, still definitely as big as Yuuri now knew it to be firsthand, was bobbing up and down with each shove, each sharp slap of skin from behind him. Vitya’s mouth was open, his nose was scrunched, and he kept looking either down at his cock or behind him where he and his partner were joined. Measured whines and moans matched the thrusts he was taking like an expert. Vitya was always an expert.

And Yuuri’s libido loved experts.

He continued like he was at home, ignoring the unfamiliar walls in favor of the very familiar face of a Vitya being fucked. With that sort of tunnel vision, Yuuri touched himself, gripping and squeezing before stroking up and down slowly. He attempted a deep breath, shuddering when he thumbed over the sensitive slit as Vitya palmed at himself on screen. Matching pace once he was ready, he loosened his grip to accommodate the lack of lubrication. His precome could only do so much for him.

Yuuri imagined being the one behind Vitya, being the one with the dick splitting Vitya open and pounding inside with no reservations. He wondered what it would feel like, to have Vitya a wrecked mess beneath him, to have Vitya feel such intense pleasure from Yuuri’s dick alone. It seemed impossible that he could ever measure up to these partners, mostly nameless and faceless when paired with someone as intense and beautiful and well-known as Vitya. And yet, alone in that hotel room, his panting breaths battled Vitya’s as he fucked into his palm faster, falling deeper into the chasm of his desires.

As Yuuri watched Vitya come all over his stomach, he remembered a bit too late that he was probably making very similar erotic noises. In a hotel with very thin walls. He bit into the back of his balled fist, stifling the deep groan that attempted to claw its way up his throat. One last sharp tug and he grew still, muscles cording as he came inside his closed hand. For a few seconds he held himself there, the throbbing veins of his dick still pulsating against his palm.

Yuuri took a moment to collect himself, a momentary bout of shame washing over him. He just watched one of Vitya’s films with the real person most likely in the next room over. Yuuri’s stomach felt heavy, worried that somehow Viktor might have heard him. He tried to figure out whether or not he had accidentally called out Vitya’s name, but his memory failed him. Too far gone in his bliss to have taken notice, Yuuri just prayed that it didn’t happen.

Regardless, he would have to go again. And probably one more time to make sure.

All while trying to shove a plug into his ass without any lube.

He couldn’t do this.

Yuuri, still half hard, shivered. He didn’t even want to attempt it. It would kill any good mood that he had been able to put himself into and it would hurt, both tonight and for their entire film time tomorrow.

Back at square one, Yuuri racked his brain for something that he could do. Anything.

Perhaps someone else brought lube?

Who would bring lube on this trip aside from the one bottoming? Most of the people Yakov chose to bring were fellow actors in the studio. And while ideally Yuuri could ask any of them, his embarrassment at asking such a thing kept him from doing so.

A buzz caused Yuuri to jump, his nerves already off-kilter. He tapped the screen and opened the message.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Hey Yuuri you awake??_

Yuuri let out a breath, relieved that this was the message he got, as opposed to any variation of awful puns from the day before. Still, he’d forgotten that Georgi had mentioned Viktor coming by. Feeling guilty now, not only because he had neglected his friends but also because he had just masturbated to a video Viktor filmed, Yuuri responded.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Yeah sorry flying always seems to tire me out_

The response was almost instantaneous.

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Oh did you have a nice nap??_ _  
_ _Did I interrupt it?_

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Nah I’m pretty awake now_

Which was not a lie, judging by the mess that was still all over his stomach. Grimacing, Yuuri reached out for the box of tissues on the nightstand. He hoped he wouldn’t use up the entirety of it tonight.

His phone buzzed almost continuously, meanwhile.

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Oh great!_  
_I was wondering if you wanted to hang out_  
_If you didn’t wanna go anywhere though that’s ok_  
_Maybe I could come hang out with you?_  
_As wonderful as Yakov is I’m not too keen on having his company 24/7_

Yuuri stared at the messages for a moment. Glanced at the time. Calculated the amount of time he would need to sleep and when he would need to fall asleep by, and tried to figure out whether or not this was a good idea.

Then again, perhaps Viktor had lube. If he came over, Yuuri could just ask him to bring it over. It was no secret that Yuuri had to prep. And it was prep for Viktor, so he felt that at this point there was at least some trust between them. Yuuri had let him stick it in his ass already, so that had to count for something.

Still, the deep sunset that colored his cheeks began to burn, spreading from his head to his toes.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** ****_  
_ _Sure_  
_But um_   
Do you by chance have any lube?

And with that text bubble popping up into the conversation, Yuuri felt like tossing his phone in the trash and burying his head into several pillows, to suffocate and never emerge again. He just asked Viktor Nikiforov, a world renown pornstar, for lube that _he_ should have remembered to pack.

As the dots appeared, Yuuri realized he was still staring at his phone. It occurred to him that he could have just gotten dressed and gone down to some gas station to buy lube. It would have been cheap and thin but it would still be less embarrassing than this. And just as with the math he did in his head earlier, it would just have been time wasted.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _I do, you need more?_

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _I forgot to pack it..._

Backing out of the messaging app, Yuuri groaned at his ineptitude as he rolled off the bed and snagged his sweatpants off the ground. Maybe he really should have just gone to the store. If he wasn’t worrying over a thousand things at once, he would have realized simply walking down to the store would have been so much easier. But no, he had to think about failing in his prep and creating a disaster of a product that was supposed to be a new full film for Vitya the Living Legend.

In truth, as he heard the knock on his door and walked over to go answer it, he was still worried about this entire job going up in flames. He had his hand on the handle, letting the cool metal be an anchor for his thoughts. One breath, two, three. There was another knock on the door as he started opening it.

Viktor was standing there, arm raised, his mouth open like he had been about to call out. The smile that appeared on his face flashed bright and warm.

“Hi.” It was so simple, so short, but it looked like the word meant the world to Viktor, like he had been practicing the line only to stop short and nearly forget it the moment his eyes landed on Yuuri.

“H-Hey, Viktor,” Yuuri began awkwardly, attempting to smile back like any other human being asking to borrow someone’s lube. “Did you...?”

Viktor held up a finger in a hushing motion and produced a small travel-sized bottle of lube from his back pocket. He dropped it into Yuuri’s hesitant hands and then brought out two sleek black plugs and what appeared to be a remote. “I brought some toys just in case, too.”

“Oh, uh, I—” Yuuri peeked out and around the hallway, making sure nobody was witnessing Viktor’s brash offer being waved around in the air. “I have mine with me.”

Viktor stopped, pouting. “But these vibrate.”

Ah. Yuuri recognized them now from the box of toys Viktor had unboxed at his apartment a couple weeks ago. He could sense the blood rushing to his face and tried to ignore it. “I... I see that.”

“You can use them,” Viktor offered again, nonchalant, “your prep should feel good, you know.”

“I mean, I guess,” Yuuri acquiesced. It was just prep for their shoot. Sure, he wanted to feel good while preparing for their film, but that was all it was: a means to an end. That was how Yuuri had to see it or he would start to get more anxious than he already was. “But why do you have them with you? It’s not like you’re the one bottoming tomorrow.”

Viktor looked down at the toys and shrugged. “In case you needed them. Phichit texted me this morning before we left about how you weren’t up yet, so I thought you might not have had enough time to pack. I know I always leave packing to the last minute and forget stuff, so...” Viktor abandoned a gesture to the toys still in his hand, with his body still showcased in the hotel’s hallway lighting.

“O-Oh, th-thank you,” Yuuri stuttered. It was thoughtful, that Viktor would go to such trouble to make sure Yuuri kept this job (because it was obvious that if they wasted their filming opportunity by getting him read then Yakov would cut off his head). Perhaps Viktor did want to keep filming with him. Yuuri knew Viktor wanted that, if their last practice was anything to go by, but his mind still supplied plenty of explanations that were hard to sift through.

It had been a minute or so of silence while Yuuri deliberated the toys. When he finally agreed, taking them from his hands, Viktor huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “So are you going to kick me out after stealing from me?”

“Huh?” Yuuri looked up from the toys in his hands now, confused.

“Take my toys and shut me out for want of entertainment?” Viktor winked, a dusting of pink on the tip of his nose. “Or was standing in the hallway your idea of hanging out?”

Yuuri bit his lip. “I mean, I did say we could hang out, but I kinda thought that _that_ would be after,” Yuuri shrugged, suddenly shy, “you know.”

Viktor nodded knowingly. “I still have to prep for tomorrow, too, you know. And I wasn’t kidding about Yakov hanging around. No time to myself. I think he actually believes I last that long naturally.”

Yuuri had an inkling of what Viktor was leading up to, but he held his tongue and waited for Viktor to tell him outright. The last thing he wanted was to mistake Viktor’s conversation as an invitation.

Viktor braced himself against the door frame, gazing into Yuuri’s eyes with this apprehensive sort of smile that didn’t belong on someone as confident as Vitya. “Do you think we could prep together?”

Yuuri’s hunch was right, but thinking it and hearing it were two very different things, especially concerning the way Viktor’s eyes begged, the way his lips pouted, pursed slightly. Yuuri’s eyes avoided his. “We’re having sex tomorrow. I think practice can wait—”

“We don’t have to have sex,” Viktor corrected hastily. “We can just... help each other. You know, get used to _us,_ to working together, so that we last longer tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Yuuri shuffled from one foot to the other. It made sense, in all honesty. And if Viktor really had nowhere to go to prep, why not do it where the other person in the room was prepping as well? Better yet, prep together. Yuuri had to admit he liked the idea a lot.

“O-Okay,” he stepped aside, holding the door open and waving Viktor in, a decision firmly in his mind, “before everyone knows, thanks.”

“Demanding,” Viktor commented, throwing a look over his shoulder as he made his way in the room, “I like it— oh?” Viktor caught sight of something on the bed and picked it up.

It was Yuuri’s phone.

Its screen was back on the video he’d been watching.

“ _V-Viktor!_ ” Yuuri squeaked, dropping the other items on the bed and snatching his phone away from Viktor. But the damage was already done. He closed out of it and put his phone as far away from both of them as possible.

“Yuuri! Was that me?” Viktor asked excitedly.

Yuuri wanted to crawl under a rock and die. But there was no way he could deny it now. “Y-Yes.”

Viktor put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with watching my porn, Yuuri. If that’s what you’re into, we could watch it together. I have to review my own stuff from time to time to brush up on technique, anyway. You could even tell me which positions you like seeing me in—”

“A-Ah, no, really,” Yuuri backed away, “we really don’t have to do that. We could just— I’m fine with— I mean if you wanted to— you could watch me, um, use the t-toys...”

Viktor straightened his back, eyes taking in Yuuri’s form. It was then that Yuuri remembered he was only in his sweatpants. Viktor was in a similar pair, equally thin, and Yuuri could tell this conversation was derailing both of them south of the waistband quickly.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, Yuuri,” Viktor spoke softly, a hand returning to caress Yuuri’s arm. “Do you want me to watch you?”

Yuuri could have easily said no. He could have told Viktor he wanted to do this alone and Viktor would have left, and that would have been the problem. Yuuri didn’t want Viktor to leave. He nodded quietly, glancing up into Viktor’s blue eyes with a small plea.

Viktor smiled gently, leaning in to press his lips just under Yuuri’s ear, his breath ghosting over his skin. “As you wish, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s arms reacted first, holding Viktor close as he kissed down Yuuri’s throat, reaching his shoulder and nipping it playfully. Hands snaking under his shirt, Yuuri pulled it upward. Viktor forced himself away long enough to help Yuuri undress him and was pressed right back up against him as soon as the article was tossed to the side.

Their skin heated where they touched, chests slotting together and arms blazing wildfires along plains of muscle. Yuuri marveled Viktor’s body, the way it responded in small ripples and made Yuuri feel like he had some say over the pleasure Viktor received. He liked it, adding his own lips to the mixture by attaching himself to Viktor’s throat and sucking hard.

Viktor’s lips popped off at the sensation and a heavy breath tumbled down Yuuri’s spine. His hands stopped moving, circling Yuuri’s waist but itching to move around more. Sliding one down over Yuuri’s ass and the other up between his shoulder blades, Viktor guided them down to the bed, settling Yuuri on the sheets and freeing one arm.

Yuuri felt Viktor’s knee slide up between his legs, both still clothed from the waist down. He licked his lips, his heart pounding in his chest, and waited to see what Viktor would do.

Viktor, for his part, did little but stare. With one arm still around the small of Yuuri’s back, he took his free arm and glided his palm up Yuuri’s abdomen, watching as Yuuri’s skin shuddered in its wake. Yuuri felt it, feather-light and careful, up his chest and over his collarbone. It came to rest at the side of Yuuri’s neck, a reassuring weight and warmth. Viktor’s thumb traced Yuuri’s jawline, deliberate and attentive, like he was smoothing out paint on a canvas.

Viktor opened his mouth, shut it, eyes glancing from Yuuri’s eyes to his lips and back again, wavering on something. When Yuuri quirked an eyebrow, Viktor smirked and ducked his head. Meeting his eyes again, Viktor hummed, amused.

“Whatever you want to do, whenever you want to start,” he said like a promise.

Yuuri sucked in a breath and leaned into Viktor’s palm, closing his eyes. He could do this. He had masturbated in front of others plenty of times now, especially in front of Viktor. He could do this.

“Okay,” he breathed, sneaking a peck of the lips to Viktor’s inner wrist before wriggling his way up the bed, shimmying out of his sweatpants as he went. Viktor stayed in his, a tent already visible in the evening shadows.

Yuuri wondered if he should let Viktor know that he could do more than watch, but thought he would be an idiot saying something so obvious. They agreed on doing this together. Hopefully he could exude some sort of sensual atmosphere that was enough to convince Viktor to help himself.

Picturing the way Vitya might do it on camera, Yuuri set to work. He kept his eyes averted but his hands ever present, never static nor moving pointlessly. Everything he did to his body, everywhere he touched, he did for himself like Viktor asked. The man watching him was silent, except for a harsher breath heard every now and again. The stare itself was an aphrodisiac, thick and heated, settling deep in his stomach.

Each stroke brought Yuuri back to where he’d been when he was watching the video, precome dripping down over his head and smearing further when his hand swiped it up. His back up against the headboard, he angled his head toward the ceiling and bit his lip, going faster. Second orgasm on its way, Yuuri had to slow down if he wanted to start fingering.

When he was ready, he turned onto his stomach, putting a pillow underneath his hips, and motioned for the lube. When nothing happened, Yuuri shifted to look behind him, catching him in a compromising position.

Viktor was sitting on his knees, ankles crossed underneath, and his sweatpants were shoved halfway down his thighs, the drawstring pulled taut around the muscles. His cock stood tall, bobbing as Viktor palmed himself silently. He didn’t stop when Yuuri saw him, only looked him in the eye and gave him the lube, faltering for a moment with worry.

The look sent shivers down Yuuri’s spine, daring as it was. Because Yuuri could ask Viktor to leave any time. Yuuri still held the power, the control. Just how he liked it.

Knowing this, he clicked the cap and poured a dab onto his middle finger. He poured another amount in between his cheeks and sighed at the temperature change. A quick slide of friction on the pillow and he started circling his rim, pushing in when he felt as relaxed as he could be with the subtle noise of slapping, slick skin behind him. His muscles contracted once he was fully in, but another breath and he was okay to continue.

As Yuuri worked himself open, tracing and pressing and curling, he could feel Viktor’s presence like the moon orbiting the earth. Drawn into the show and affecting it all at the same time. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Viktor’s eyes firmly on him. Not even his ministrations, where Yuuri thought Viktor would have been looking. No, Viktor had his sea glass eyes, pupils blown wide enough to shatter them, trained on him, the hues glinting in the light of the sunset that streamed in from the window.

It was powerful, the effect Viktor had just by simply sitting there. Yuuri felt pinned in place, but not helpless. In fact, he glowed with the realization that he was the one that was pinning Viktor— the Living Legend of porn— to his spot on the bed, getting himself off to the view of Yuuri’s ass being stretched.

It made him feel desired. It made him feel like Eros was something he really could be.

He got up to three fingers before Viktor said anything.

“You’ll want more lube,” he suggested, “you’re starting to look a little red.”

Yuuri felt a blush go from his face down to his exposed ass, the atmosphere not ruined but shifting nonetheless. “It’s okay. I was about to ask for the smaller plug anyway.”

Yuuri saw Viktor’s eyes go toward his entrance, currently filled by three fingers glistening with lube. He pulled them out and wiped them on a tissue before holding out his hand. Viktor instead reached for the lube himself and covered the toy in it. He then handed the flared handle to Yuuri, licking his lips subconsciously.

Yuuri took the toy from him and returned the expression. He shifted, raising his ass higher into the air before introducing the tip of the toy to his entrance, twisting and gliding it over the hole. He heard a low growl of annoyance behind him and had to pause to hold in his laugh. Looked like he didn’t have to worry about not arousing Viktor after all. He should have known better.

He couldn’t hold in the laugh anymore.

“Someone’s impatient,” he said, stopping the plug right over his entrance.

Viktor’s transfixed gaze snapped. He shook his head, a quizzical smirk on his face. “Do you know how much you tease?”

“Enough,” Yuuri winked, pleased with himself. Pressing in, he relaxed and felt the pressure tighten, the toy widening until it suddenly plopped into place with a lewd _plup_. Moving his hand away, he wiggled around, feeling the toy shift snugly into place. He hummed appreciatively and spun himself around, lying on his back and meeting Viktor’s heated gaze with a lazy smile.

“It fits really well,” Yuuri commended, keeping his legs open wide and testing out the ring of muscle a couple times.

Viktor’s eyes were glued down between those legs. Yuuri saw his Adam’s apple bob and his hand still on his dick freeze in place. When he finally looked at Yuuri, he removed his hand, his dick still point up. Rock hard.

“I see,” he said, visibly swallowing, “that’s good. I hadn’t tested them out yet, so I hoped they would work alright.”

Yuuri sat up too quickly in his surprise, wincing at the jolt of the toy’s movement rubbing in all the wrong and right places. “You hadn’t used these yet?”

Viktor shrugged. “Not a whole lot of time, and I haven’t bottomed for a little while.”

Yuuri, now sensing how vulnerable they both were, decided to ask. “Do you like to bottom?”

Viktor’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, although his dick twitched in betrayal. “I do,” he said hesitantly, “but Yakov doesn’t schedule it often.”

“What about off the clock?” Yuuri asked. “You know, with your partners off set?”

Viktor blinked. “Never had the time,” his gaze flitted away, guarded.

Yuuri supposed that was true. Bottoming did take a lot of preparation, on or off camera. And with Vitya being on camera nearly every day, Yuuri understood that he wouldn’t have a lot of time to bottom with his partners. With more topping experience, no wonder Yakov kept Viktor in that role. More experience meant better shoots, which meant more money.

He also felt like he was intruding a little too much into Viktor’s personal life. As a quick distraction, knowing he would have to switch to the bigger plug and come at least two more times tonight, he grabbed the remote and thrust it into Viktor’s chest. Viktor’s hands caught it reflexively.

“Um,” Yuuri hadn’t thought his action through, he just knew it would change the subject. He lowered his head. “You can play with it if you want.”

“What?” Viktor asked, stunned.

“T-The plug,” Yuuri tugged at the toy experimentally, his face flushed with both embarrassment and arousal.

Viktor took a moment to compose himself before clicking the first button. Almost instantly, the plug began to hum, thrumming against Yuuri’s ring of muscle and deeper inside. His mouth fell open wordlessly, the pleasure too sudden for him to actually moan. His foot slipped as he tried to reposition himself, deciding instead to just lay back with his knees up and legs spread out as wide as he could comfortably allow.

Yuuri lolled his head to the side to get a better view of Viktor’s reaction. He had this dumbstruck blush on his face, the remote tight in his grasp. Yuuri would have asked if he was alright if Viktor hadn’t clicked the next button.

The vibrations intensified and Yuuri felt his thighs tremble. His ab muscles constricted, the warmth pooling in his gut once again. He knew the plug, even though it was vibrating nicely, would not send him over the edge. Regardless, he moaned when the plug shifted, so _so incredibly close_ to that spot inside him that Viktor had been able to touch for him before. But it wasn’t close enough and the plug shifted again.

Yuuri opened his eyes, surprised to find they were even shut in the first place, and saw Viktor’s hand retract from between his legs. He grinned sheepishly. “Was that alright? You looked like you needed a little push.”

“I—” Yuuri started, but was cut off by Viktor switching to the next setting. “Aaah,” Yuuri stuttered, losing track of his thoughts as he arched his back off the sheets. Open and bare and being prodded without being touched was driving him crazy.

“I need— more. I need more,” Yuuri gasped out, the plug now on a varying, pulsating setting. He squeezed his cock and stroked it a few times just to relieve even a tiniest bit of the arousal flooding his veins. “I need the next plug.”

Yuuri reached down to pull on the plug, but the vibrations and the lube slathered onto the toy made it hard to get a grip, particularly when he was feeling every single edge of the toy around his walls, shaking to the point that he might go numb.

Viktor’s hand grabbed Yuuri’s and the vibrations stopped. The sudden lack of sensation was a sensation in its own right and Yuuri keened with a noise dangerously close to a whine.

“Easy, _solnyshko_ ,” Viktor’s whisper was in his ear, seemingly loud compared to the silence that followed the end of the vibrations. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me.”

When Viktor began to pull at the toy, Yuuri clenched involuntarily. The movement wasn’t his own and his body wanted to reject it. He whimpered, struggling to open back up.

Somewhere outside of that headspace, Viktor’s lips were on Yuuri’s forehead. The contact was kind, reassuring, and Yuuri let his mind focus on it, breathing deeply and pumping his cock a few times to release some of the pent up energy. Not enough to finish, not yet.

Viktor pulled the toy out and wiped it off, setting it on a tissue on the nightstand and grabbing the other plug, similar in all but size. Yuuri looked on as Viktor carefully squeezed some lube onto the toy, recapped and set aside the lube, then coated it so that there was no dry surface left. Viktor’s middle finger and thumb couldn’t touch around the widest part of the plug, a fact that Yuuri knew he was about to enjoy immensely.

Viktor handed it to Yuuri, pausing. “You would prefer to do it, right?”

As much as Yuuri wanted to let Viktor do it, to let Viktor do anything because he was unfathomably hard and so was Viktor and they could just do it right now— but Yuuri remembered that this was prep work. They could wait on the sex, as much as his dick disagreed. Yuuri took the plug and began inserting it himself.

The stretch had him gasping, low groans escaping his throat as he pushed the toy in further, widening more than it would on Vitya’s cock. That thought alone had him closing in on another orgasm already.

When the toy was sucked into place, Yuuri held his knees up and did the same thing as he did for the first plug, testing it out. Satisfied, Yuuri nodded to Viktor. “You can start any time.”

Viktor flipped a small switch on the remote. “You know, the remote can control both of them at the same time,” he mentioned casually, having not pressed the button that Yuuri wanted to order him to press.

Yuuri shifted his weight, the toy tightening even more so than the other one had. Pleasurable to the point of pain. He had to blink a few times to come up with some sort of coherent reply. “I don’t think they’re designed so that I can have two in at once,” he began, twisting the plug himself to create another sensation when Viktor still hadn’t turned it on, “and they work just fine on their own.”

Viktor pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully. There was something else in his expression but Yuuri didn’t have time to name it before Viktor clicked the button, the larger plug humming much louder than the previous plug, despite this one being on the lowest setting.

Yuuri didn’t think he could be brought so close to coming, a vibrating plug reaching that spot and Viktor unable to keep his eyes off of him. It was an embrace of desire and need and it warmed his gut, shook his thighs, had his head falling back. He moaned freely, playing with himself a little faster.

“Fuck, Viktor,” Yuuri muttered.

“Shh, shh,” Viktor hushed, “someone might hear you.”

Yuuri bit his lip, but it didn’t help. Even on the lowest setting, it was going to be too much.

Then Viktor said: “God, you look so good filled up.”

Yuuri’s hand stilled as the rush of warmth spilled over his abdomen, running thinner than last time but there seemed to be twice as much. His thighs quivered and his toes curled and when he regained full consciousness he realized he was practically clawing at the sheets, the material balled in his free fist.

Yuuri let his body fall apart, muscles and limbs and bones weary. The worst part of the post-orgasm euphoria was that he knew he would have to finish one more time if he was going to be prepared for tomorrow. In this moment, however, he just wanted to fall asleep.

Then he remembered Viktor. Viktor, who hadn’t come yet. Yuuri lifted his head to see that Viktor hadn’t moved from his spot, but he also wasn’t pleasuring himself like Yuuri thought he would. The inadequacy of not being a show good enough for Viktor to finish flashed through his mind, and he frowned.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor looked up, appearing strained but smiling all the same. “Yuuri. You all set for tomorrow?”

Yuuri reluctantly shook his head. “I’ll need to come one more time just to be sure, I think.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow in question. “Two times before every shoot? Wow.”

“Three, actually,” Yuuri corrected. “I... I came once before you showed up.”

Viktor’s hand went to the base of his cock, curling around it tighter than Yuuri thought would be comfortable. “Fuck,” he whispered, “you’re insatiable. You know it’s fine to come more than once during a shoot, right?”

Yuuri sat up, the effort laborious with the added weight and stretch inside of him. “I want to keep up with you,” he said in earnest. “And why are you denying yourself, Viktor?”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, paralyzed and impossibly stoic. “You said you needed one more. I want to be able to keep up with you too, Yuuri.”

Yuuri had never stopped long enough to think that Vitya the Living Legend would ever struggle to keep up with some normal person like him. Vitya could go for hours, what about this situation was any different? Was it easier without cameras, even for pornstars? Either way, Yuuri apologized for not being considerate.

Viktor straightened up, seemingly under control again. “So,” he ventured, leaning forward enough that Yuuri wanted to stumble back, but didn’t because he didn’t want to jostle the plug further, “what is it that you want, Yuuri? What would get you off?”

Yuuri took a second to think about it, because if this was the last thing they did for the night, the last practice they had for a little while, he wanted it to be something special. “What would you want, Viktor?”

“I asked you,” Viktor answered, “because I want what you want Yuuri. You see how close I am.”

Yuuri wasn’t going to deny that. A person would have to be blind to not see this pain of arousal wearing down on Viktor, or to be deaf to not hear the lusting desperation in the edges of his voice. Yuuri thought back to the video he watched earlier. Why had he liked it so much?

It wasn’t a good idea to ask for sex, let alone to top. Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek when an answer came to mind that had him blushing from cheeks to chest, hoping that Viktor didn’t catch it.

“Did you just think of something?” Viktor bemused. “You look like you just thought of something particularly naughty. Would you tell me? Please?”

Well, he caught it. No use in hiding it now, was there?

“Can I...” Yuuri gestured vaguely to Viktor’s lap. “C-Can I fuck your thighs? L-Like what we did during that ballet instructor shoot?”

Viktor appeared to have been struck by lightning. “You sure that will—”

“Is there enough lube left in the bottle?” Yuuri asked, sticking to his decision.

Viktor picked it up and examined the side. Of course there was enough; it was nearly half full. He tossed it to Yuuri, who caught it and immediately began coating his cock with it.

“How do you want me?” Viktor prompted, cautiously curious but also a tad bit eager if Yuuri was reading him right.

Yuuri paused. “C-Could you bend over for me?”

“As you wish,” Viktor responded readily, propping himself on all fours without reservation.

If Yuuri hadn’t already come twice that night, he would have come at the sight of Viktor’s ass bared for him like this. He stood on his knees and shuffled over to line himself up behind Viktor.

Terror seized him in that moment, every self-deprecating thought flooding through his system, aiming to cut the last thread of string that had kept Yuuri riding high. He wasn’t good enough to do this to the world’s greatest pornstar, to Vitya the Living Legend. He would be taking pleasure from him and giving nothing in return and that was something he wasn’t sure he could do to anyone, let alone Vitya.

Viktor must have noticed, because he twisted his shoulders to get a more direct look at Yuuri. “It’s okay, Yuuri. It won’t be long for me, either. We’re not filming, neither of us need to last for hours. Just take what you need from me.”

Yuuri’s hands cupped Viktor’s ass as soon as permission slipped past his lips. He traced his fingertips around the toned, experienced curves and gripped at the outside of Viktor’s thighs, pulling at them to reveal a gap. He wasted no time in pushing himself in, an imitation of the wet heat he could have had if he didn’t have to bottom the next day.

Experimentally, Yuuri pushed and pulled, snapping his hips in a mock thrust. Viktor’s body jerked forward but he didn’t stumble. The friction was intoxicating and a little over-stimulating, already leaving Yuuri breathless.

He did it again.

Viktor moaned out, Yuuri’s dick having slid against his perineum after another thrust. It only motivated Yuuri to move faster. The back of Viktor’s head fell, shoulder muscles hunched, and his silver hair feathered down over the top of his head, swaying with the way Yuuri pushed and pulled.

His legs began to tire soon, however, thanks to his two orgasms earlier sapping all strength from them. And while the squelching noises were consistent and the pleasure was intense for Yuuri, he wasn’t close yet. He leaned over Viktor, hugging his body close and slowing his hips, only pushing them harder.

Yuuri could hear Viktor’s heartbeat, entangled together like this. It was truthful: rapid and yearning and dancing to a song only they could hear. It drove Yuuri on, timing them together as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Viktor’s spine.

Then he curled his fingers around Viktor’s dick and began pumping. He wanted to make Viktor feel good, too. No matter what Viktor said, Yuuri wanted this to be good for both of them.

Viktor gasped loudly, letting out a noise almost feral.

Yuuri’s next step was to cover Viktor’s mouth with his hand and lean in even more, their bodies now completely flush together, leaving only room for the sweat on their bodies to slide.

“Didn’t you tell me not to make a noise, Viktor?” Yuuri whispered hotly. “Because you’re not being very quiet. Do you think you can come quietly, Viktor?”

Viktor never made to take Yuuri’s hand away from his mouth, choosing to nod instead. Yuuri, liking the ease with which he could command Viktor, quickened the pace of his hips and his hand, causing Viktor to bounce and whine, quiver and groan. More and more, faster and faster, until Yuuri felt the nerves of his body convene into his gut.

On a sharp tug of Viktor’s cock, Yuuri felt Viktor’s entire body freeze up. Refusing to stop moving now that he could finally feel the build up again, he fucked Viktor’s thighs without a pause, if anything doing it faster. Viktor’s thighs had him trapped, and Yuuri couldn’t have prayed to any god for a better feeling than this.

Viktor had finished, Yuuri realized after a moment of silence from his partner. He caused that.

Yuuri pulled himself out and palmed himself with quick, hastening strokes— not even bothering to push himself off of Viktor entirely— before he came all over the back of Viktor’s thighs and ass. There was white dripping everywhere. A mess of Yuuri’s doing.

The sight of which had Yuuri collapsing over Viktor’s body, causing them to fall down onto the bed, Yuuri spooning Viktor. Despite the mess between their legs, Yuuri was too comfortably weak to attempt to get up. Viktor scooted back into the embrace and their bodies lined up, sticky with sweat and come and searing skin. Both were too tired to comment.

They lay there in the utter silence of the hotel room. There was the occasional clink of bottles from one room, a fridge door opening from another, and footsteps above and below them. But in that room, it was just them. Just Yuuri and Viktor, their chests settling into a complementing rhythm against each other, a soothing lullaby. And to Yuuri, just two pornstars preparing for their day.

Coming to that realization, Yuuri reluctantly pulled away, grabbed tissues, and picked their clothing up off the floor. He laid Viktor’s clothing in front of him with some tissues and stood up from the bed to dress himself. Unaccustomed to standing up after this many orgasms— he usually went to bed after prep— his balance teetered and his hand shot out to stabilize against the wall, sweatpants halfway up his thighs.

“Are you—” Yuuri began, then backpedaled. “Do you need anything more?”

Viktor laughed breathlessly, but still hadn’t turned to acknowledge the pile of clothing that was his. “My stamina isn’t what it used to be. You’re younger and haven’t had to film nearly as much porn as I have.”

Yuuri licked his lips, rolling the bottom one into a bite, debating. He waited until Viktor shifted to look at his mischievous expression. “You know, I think I could get one more in and still be alright for tomorrow.”

Viktor groaned in mock despair as he sat up. “No one should be able to come ten thousand times in one night.”

“It was only three,” Yuuri pointed out.

Viktor fell back down, body rebounding on the sheets. “I can’t go on, you’re too much for me!” Viktor cried melodramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes.

On instinct, like he would with Phichit, Yuuri picked up a pillow and chucked it at the unsuspecting target. Viktor’s body closed in on itself as he gasped— something very close to a shriek. He looked at Yuuri with incredulous disbelief written all over his face.

Realizing what he’d done, Yuuri backed up against the wall. “W-W-Wait! I’m so sorry, Viktor! I didn’t mean— I just—”

Yuuri didn’t get the words out before Viktor was pegging a different pillow at his face. On reflex, he caught it, lowering it to say something but getting another face full of pillow instead. It fell to reveal a Viktor crouching behind the other bed with several other pillows at his disposal, grinning stupidly wide.

“ _This_ , however, is something I can beat you at,” he said, a challenge gleaming in his eyes, despite the dying light of day dimming the room.

“Of course you can, you have all the ammo!” Yuuri hopped onto the bed Viktor was hiding behind, standing as tall as he could without falling over.

Viktor laughed, throwing two at once, but Yuuri blocked them. “You were just saying you had plenty of stamina. I think you can survive a few fluffy bullets.”

Yuuri took the two pillows and jumped down from the bed in front of Viktor, intending to smack him with one again, but Viktor took off across the room with a wordless taunt. Yuuri tossed each pillow in succession, one missing and hitting the dresser while the second one hit Viktor in the shoulder as he was turning around.

Yuuri ran after him, skirting around the side of the bed and picking up the pillow that he missed. He aimed at Viktor who was faking cowering in the corner. The fear in his eyes gave Yuuri pause, long enough for Viktor to retaliate by lunging forward and picking Yuuri up by the waist.

It effectively stopped him from attacking, the sudden rush forcing all air from his lungs with a gasped chuckle. Yuuri dropped the pillows in favor of ensuring his safety by locking his arms around Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor spun, causing Yuuri’s laughter to fill up the room before his foot tripped and they stumbled back onto the bed, Viktor hitting the covers first. Yuuri’s hips collapsed in between Viktor’s thighs, his arms still tight around Viktor as he absorbed the shock of falling onto him.

But Viktor wasn’t using this to get away with anything. He hadn’t won, not yet. Yuuri let go of his shoulders to feather his fingertips down over Viktor’s exposed torso. The air of confusion surrounding Viktor melted into small, quivering lips, which in turn burst into complete laughter.

“S-S-Sto-o-op t-ti-tickling _me_ —” Viktor managed to wheeze out before dissipating into helpless giggles again.

But Yuuri continued, his fingers ghosting and crawling and tracing up and down Viktor’s sides without respite. Every time Viktor tried to alleviate it, Yuuri tickled harder and Viktor was rendered useless again. Viktor’s grin was wide, his eyes squeezed shut and tears forming in the corners, one streaking down his laugh lines. But Yuuri would not relent. That was, until he felt the growing sensation trapped underneath him. They both stopped, the air cold.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri said slowly, “you’re hard.”

Viktor, face deadpanned now, shifted uneasily underneath him. “You can ignore it.”

“I thought you said you were good for the night?” Yuuri asked instead. He couldn’t understand why Viktor would lie about being ready for their shoot tomorrow. Was it all just an excuse? For what?

“Well, I didn’t anticipate being able to touch you,” was Viktor’s answer, which only confused Yuuri further.

“What do you mean?”

“Watching you was great, but not touching you was pure torture,” Viktor said honestly, entirely open and pliant underneath him. “You’re gorgeous, Yuuri. Absolutely stunning. Do you know how badly I wanted to hold you?”

Strange choice of words, but either way, Yuuri felt guilty. Perhaps he should have said something before they started preparing after all. “You could have.”

Viktor blew air through his nose, the sound drawn out and exasperated. “I didn’t know that. You have to tell me these things, Yuuri. I don’t want to cross a line.”

But they were already crossing lines. More than coworkers should, particularly in their line of work. Especially, particularly, in the studio run by Yakov’s strange rules. They already had sex off camera, though, so it didn’t really matter what they did at this point. Did it?

Besides, Yuuri thought he was supposed to be seducing Viktor. Clearly he succeeded if Viktor got hard by simply being able to touch him after watching what he had done.

Glancing down between them, it dawned on Yuuri that Viktor was still naked. Perhaps his reaction was warranted. Yuuri had his sweatpants back on, sure, but they weren’t made of the thickest material. The heat from Viktor’s body rolled off in waves, wearing down Yuuri’s resolve. He wasn’t going to get hard again any time soon, but he would be lying if he said that pinning a naked pornstar to his bed didn’t make him feel at least slightly turned on.

In light of all this, Yuuri shook his head. “You’re not.”

“That’s good,” Viktor said, the worry lines on his face smoothing out to give way to a small smile.

A small smile that told Yuuri that Viktor was comfortable with where they were; on the bed, alone, but also where they were in terms of understanding. If _this_ was all they could ever be, Viktor seemed content. Yuuri was too, as far as he was concerned. Nothing had to come of this. This was just two people thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

Although, in this tiny hotel room in the middle of a large city, at one corner of the globe, separated by anything that could bother them, Yuuri sensed something more. The last vestiges of light had long passed, but the smile still on Viktor’s lips was the promise of a new dawn. His eyes were twin ocean souls, boring into Yuuri while also inviting him to dive in. Viktor’s hands, smoothing up and down Yuuri’s back, made Yuuri feel safe, wanted, _there_ in the moment; a part of Viktor, a part of that enticing promise.

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath. All things had an end, this would just be one of many. “We should get to bed. Long shoot tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Viktor surrendered as well, his hands slowing to a stop. “Not that I would ever say this in any other context, but could you get off of me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri almost scrambled off of him, scared he had overstepped some boundary by taking too long. “S-Sorry!”

Viktor just chuckled and got up, putting on his clothes with the same finesse that he always seemed to have. It made him appear ethereal no matter what he did. He could be redressing into a fat clown suit and Yuuri would still think he looked beautiful doing it.

Yuuri walked him to the door before remembering what was on the nightstand, skipping back over to grab them. “Here’s your lube and plugs— er, plug,” Yuuri held the items out to Viktor, who took them with reluctant hands and put them into his pockets. “I-I’ll get you the other one back after the shoot, though, I promise!”

Viktor shook his head. “Keep it as long as you want.”

That was an impossible request for Yuuri. He couldn’t just take one of Viktor’s toys, even if Viktor hadn’t used it yet. At least, he wouldn’t take it without paying for it. Regardless, he knew Viktor would argue against him, so he let it slide. Yuuri opened the door for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Viktor didn’t step outside the room just yet. His eyes never left Yuuri. “Goodnight, my Yuuri,” he whispered before beginning to leave.

“Viktor?”

“Hm?” He turned back around in an instant, a quirk in his brows.

Yuuri had to know. He couldn’t take it back now. “Why do you say that? ‘My Yuuri’?”

Viktor stood there, his expression blank. “It’s a Russian thing.”

Just as Yuuri thought. “Oh,” he replied, still unendingly curious. “Could I say it?”

Viktor put a finger to his lips in mock thought. “You are your own Yuuri, so I suppose so,” he reasoned. “I’m not sure why you would want to refer to yourself like that, it’s a little redundant, but—”

“N-No,” Yuuri interrupted him, “I meant—”

Viktor had that same finger now pressed to Yuuri’s lips, suave and enticing. Everything that Yuuri was not. “I know, Yuuri, I’m just poking fun,” he chided with a cheeky smile.

Yuuri ducked his head, suddenly shy. “W-Well, goodnight, my Viktor,” he said, glancing up through his lashes to gauge Viktor’s reaction.

There was a strip of bright pink across Viktor’s face, from one ear to the other, stretching wider than his smile, if it were possible. “Goodnight, _solnyshko._ ”

“Another Russian thing?” Yuuri asked.

“Yep.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Viktor…” Yuuri pouted, attempting to pull the same trick that Viktor had earlier, albeit with no success this time around.

“Goodnight,” Viktor said simply, so low and reverent that Yuuri swore it was just a rustle of the wind. Except no window was open.

Viktor leaned in and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s forehead, the action so natural that Yuuri almost didn’t question it. Even after it registered in his mind as something off limits, he clung to the sensation more so than anything they had done tonight. Viktor’s hand was at the back of his head, holding him there to his lips, lightly threading through his hair. Then he was gone, walking back down the hall and smiling one last time at Yuuri before he carded his door and disappeared.

Yuuri found himself staring at the empty hallway after two full minutes, wondering what exactly it was that was making his heart do frontflips in the now cramped space of his ribcage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! ❤
> 
> (I'll edit the weird spaces after italics if they happen to show up!)
> 
> And if you so wish, come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/)! :)


	13. Be My Daddy, Vitya!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri officially enters the foray of feature- _length_ adult films.
> 
> Or, the chapter where sex actually is work, but they still can't stay serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let you guys know that fanart was made of the cherry scene from chapter 11! You can find it [here](https://mega-truong.tumblr.com/post/163724924004/drew-the-coffee-and-cherry-date-its-a-date)! :D
> 
> It's super cute and fluffy and it makes me smile so please go show @mega-truong some love! ❤❤❤

Early in the morning, or at least far too early for Yuuri’s liking, the whole crew packed their things for the shoot and aimed to head out the door. Yuuri checked the plug at least five times before leaving, not even having the time to get some breakfast, scared that it had caused him to become sore— or worse, torn— throughout the night. A warning from Yakov to get moving had Yuuri running out the door, the last one to arrive in the lobby with a stiff back and a terrified look on his face.

That was, until Viktor clicked the button on the remote in his pocket as they walked outside.

Yuuri gasped and nearly doubled over from the shock of vibrations that assaulted all the right spots. _Way_ too early for this.

He glared at Viktor as they walked side by side down the slightly less than crowded LA streets to meet the other company. Viktor turned the vibrations off fairly quick, but the fact that his hand was still in his pocket was unsettling Yuuri. He really did not want to start clenching. It would only hurt more after taking it out that way.

Although he also had to admit it was arousing. Did that make him a masochist? Or at the very least an exhibitionist?

Probably not.

They entered the giant studio building and waited in the lobby while Yakov and Viktor— donning that pearlescent Vitya demeanor— went further in to talk to one of the directors. Yuuri sat in a chair next to Phichit, too exhausted from last night to say much.

“You look like hell,” Phichit stated in a low tone, cautious, “did you prep with a horse cock or something last night? You’re not sitting right.”

Yuuri attempted to straighten up, cutting off a groan as the plug moved around inside him. Recalling the events of last night, the blush on his cheeks were inevitable. “The plug was a little bigger than I remember, that’s all,” Yuuri said, wishing to disappear.

Phichit wrapped an arm around his shoulder and hugged him gently. “You gonna be alright?”

Yuuri hated these sort of sympathetic hugs, but Phichit always made them seem more bearable. He let himself be lulled into it. “I’ll be okay. Just going to need a bucket of lube.”

Phichit stifled a chuckle, the quirk of his lips smart. He was about to say something when Yakov, Vitya, and a separate crew of five people Yuuri didn’t recognize came out.

Yakov cleared his throat to get everybody’s attention. “These people are from the company here. They’ve allowed us to film on one of their private beaches. Working with me today as a co-director is Sofie, here,” Yakov waved to a tallish blond woman. “Then these people are camera workers. They’re going to be taking some shots as promo material. The one you’ll want to go to with questions is Kaylie,” Yakov introduced a smaller woman with dark brown hair and sharp eyes.

Yakov rattled off other names and waved to Sofie to lead the way for them. Outside waiting for them were several taxis to take them to the location, windows tinted like some sort of secret service. Yuuri gave Phichit a bewildered look, which was returned right back to him. They in turn sent the look Viktor’s way, but Viktor just shrugged.

Par for the course, apparently.

Yakov ordered Vitya and Eros to ride in the taxi with him and the other director. Phichit wished him luck under his breath and told Yuuri that they had to go sightseeing after the shoot.

Yuuri wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to do that after the shoot, but he shrugged it off and made his way over to Viktor’s side.

Viktor’s lips spread into a warm smile, his eyes an invitation. There was a pull, a force behind it that made Yuuri want to sink into him. Nothing sexual, not like Vitya’s dazzling bachelor persona would have influenced. The look Viktor gave was gentle and kind and asking for whatever Yuuri was willing to give, but at the same time it was just a small reassurance. They would be fine. This was just another shoot.

_You’re in capable hands,_ spoke Vitya’s knuckles as he brushed them against Yuuri’s arm, subtle enough that no one noticed. Yuuri ducked his head and smiled.

“In the car,” Yakov’s grumpy voice cut through the atmosphere that Yuuri hadn’t realized was building up.

He paid little attention to much else on the ride over, donating his time to watching out the window as the city teemed around them. People walked past, not one of them knowing that pornstars were traveling alongside them. So many people, so many different jobs, it all blended together, blurred as they moved through traffic. If Viktor had been out on the street, walking about his normal day, Yuuri wondered if he would be able to point him out if he weren’t a pornstar. He came to the conclusion that someone like Viktor would turn heads wherever he went regardless of what he did for a living.

“You’re crazy to want to film in November, but you’re the one giving us promotional Vitya material, so it’s not my place to judge,” Sofie said with a laugh, professional in every manner.

“Our new guy here is also someone to be watching out for,” Vitya responded in kind, stealing a sultry glance that Yuuri had turned around just in time to see before it disappeared. “Eros is quite the natural.”

Sofie observed Yuuri for a moment, eyes roaming inquisitively. “I believe I remember him. Is he the bottom you worked with on the new lifeguard installment?”

There looked to be some emotion that flitted in Vitya’s eyes, but Yuuri couldn’t place it.

Vitya smiled. “He was quite the pleasure,” he said as he fingered the collar of his shirt. It was a light, flowing material that looked see-through in the right light. Which was almost every light.

Yuuri took in his abysmal appearance by comparison: a track jacket with his old ballet club logo on the back— probably not something he should have worn to a porn shoot, but at least the name of the college wasn’t on it— and jeans with holes in the knees from one too many impromptu practices late at night. He returned to the window, hoping they would be there soon before they could notice how terribly inept he was for any and all of this.

“I could tell,” Sofie smirked, “you two might become a power pair yet.”

She only said that because Eros happened to be in the car, Yuuri was sure of it.

As their conversation continued on, Yuuri felt Viktor’s hand slide onto his, out of sight of Yakov on the other side of Viktor and of Sofie up front with the driver. A light squeeze that held for longer than a simple show of reassurance. When Yuuri looked down, Viktor was still holding on, his thumb now gliding smoothly over the back of his hand, whispering tender reminders of words untold. It was a nice sensation to hold onto, and it helped Yuuri focus on something that wasn’t going to cause him more anxiety than he was already subjecting himself to.

Yuuri noticed that Vitya was no longer engaging in the conversation between directors and was instead staring straight ahead, eyes glazed over in thought. Believing that he was returning the same feeling of safety, Yuuri flipped his hand over. Their palms slid into place. Fingers curled, Yuuri squeezed back.

Startled, Viktor stared at where they were now connected. His lips parted and there were words on them waiting to be said but they melted into his cheeks instead, a barely visible pink now gracing his features. He gave Yuuri a small— nervous?— smile, something he had never seen Vitya wear on his face before.

“And here we are,” Sofie said as the taxi parked in a lot atop a rocky plateau with the ocean lapping the sands below them. The beach was empty.

“This seems a little open,” Yakov commented as they shuffled out of the car. The other taxis were dropping off the rest of the crew as they grabbed their equipment from the trunks.

“Oh, the part of the beach we’ll be using is behind that cove over there,” Sofie pointed to an outcrop that stole its way over the beach, sectioning it off from whatever was on the other side. By comparison, quite private. “Most of the rocks on that side of the cliff are smooth, whether by natural occurrence or by our crew’s doing.”

“Film enough over here?” Vitya asked coyly, hand slipping away from Yuuri’s. The ghost of warmth seeping from his hand had his fingers twitching, almost reaching out again.

“Not in the winter,” Sofie scoffed playfully, “but I digress. I’ll let your team set up and I’ll have the camera crews work out a plan. You two just focus on giving us something good to capture.”

Yuuri walked over to the crews to help carry stuff down, seeing that a lot of it wasn’t going to be easy. Phichit gladly gave him a couple tripods and hiked a rather large camera up onto his own shoulder. Yuuri grimaced as one of the metal pieces pinched his arm, but redistributed the weight without complaining otherwise. Everyone else teamed up likewise, but when Yuuri began walking down the natural stone steps, Viktor’s hand reappeared on his shoulder.

“Let me carry some of those down, too,” he offered, his sleeves rolled up his forearm in a show of handsome muscle.

Yuuri looked away immediately and handed him a tripod, their hands meeting again briefly, probably longer than necessary. On the way down, Phichit passed them and threw a cheeky wink in Yuuri’s direction that Yuuri pointedly ignored.

After walking around the cove, several people’s feet slipping on the rocks still wet from when the last tide came in, they took stock in what they had. Nothing was broken, thankfully, and a lot of camerawork jargon began being tossed about. Yuuri waved bye to Phichit and walked over to where Vitya was speaking with Yakov and Chris.

“So I’ll come up over that rock over there and find him here, right?” Vitya asked, flipping through a manuscript with a crease in his brow.

Yakov nodded. “Then you’ll have to do the first sequence on the small ridge over here first,” he pointed to a small raise in the rocks that looked suspiciously like man-made benches, “but see what the camera crew says once they’ve figured out all their stuff. It may change.”

Chris yawned in the middle of his stretch, looking incrementally more interested in the conversation once he saw Yuuri walk up. “Hey, hey! It’s the pornstar of the hour! Ready to get a bunch of sand all over your ass?”

Yuuri was taken aback by the question, still not completely used to Chris’s blunt, open personality. At the same time, the prospect of sand and ocean water getting anywhere near his lubed up private parts did not sound like much fun. “Uh.”

Vitya didn’t look thrilled about that either, but he didn’t argue. Instead he turned to Yuuri and switched to a more cheerful disposition. “You wanna go change, then? I brought our outfits down.”

“Costumes for every scenario, huh?”

Vitya chucked. “They don’t want us ripping our own clothes.”

“How considerate,” Yuuri said as they walked toward the cove and further around the side, the waves lapping at their shoes. The water was cold, but nowhere near as freezing as the Great Lakes Yuuri had visited with Phichit on occasion.

Viktor, as soon as they were mostly out of sight, began stripping. After as many times as they had filmed so far, it was no longer a surprise to see Viktor so carefree with showing off his body. Without even trying, the way he took off his shirt, crossing his arms and pulling slowly over his abs and around his shoulders and finally up over his head, his hair falling out of the shirt and back into its perfect place, sent a chill down Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri unzipped his own jacket and dropped it unceremoniously, feeling incredibly _not_ sexy. Viktor, by comparison, kicked off his tight jeans— that were molded to his legs so precisely— like they were just another pair of sweatpants. Yuuri looked down at his own pants now on the beach sands, at his own average body, and sighed.

“Yuuri?”

Viktor was standing in front of him now, in his trademark black thong, looking for all the world like he belonged in a museum. Some sort of intense, interactive museum on the wonders of sex. Such a thing definitely existed, at least in Yuuri’s mind. And it was filled with Viktor at various angles and states of undress.

Realizing he was staring, and that he would never _not_ stare, Yuuri met Viktor’s eyes and was shocked to find that they were soft, rounder, caressing without touching.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked, voice unsure.

“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri lied, “I’m fine.”

He knew that Viktor wasn’t buying it. He didn’t even buy it himself. Something between last night and this morning had gotten to him. And seeing all these people didn’t help. After doing two shoots as complete as these ones, Yuuri figured he would have gotten used to it by now.

And yet, in that moment, he thought he preferred it when he and Viktor were alone. But that wasn’t how porn worked, and this was porn. This was their job.

“Yuuri,” Viktor warned, drawing out his name, “you should be telling your partner if anything is wrong. I don’t want to film with you today if you aren’t one hundred percent into this. It’s going to be long and tiring and—”

“Boring?” Yuuri filled in the blank, fearing that it was true.

Viktor paused, blinking a few times trying to comprehend. “No. Not boring. I told you I could never be bored with you,” he reached out, touching his thumb to Yuuri’s lips, his own now forming a lopsided smile, “and I meant both on and off camera.”

As much as Yuuri wanted to believe his words, he knew the building bundle of nerves was going to start rolling down the steep hill again. Viktor’s thumb on his lips did not abate that feeling, although it was by no means something he didn’t like. It was smooth, swiping over his lip with barely a feather’s touch. Enough pressure to let Yuuri know he was there, that he was wanted. He blushed, too focused on the sensation to answer.

Viktor, his words having not gotten through, changed footing. “What do you want from this shoot today, Yuuri?”

Yuuri snapped out of his daze and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “A paycheck, generally speaking. Orgasm?”

“What about specifically?” Viktor prodded.

“I thought ‘orgasm’ was pretty specific,” Yuuri retorted. He wasn’t sure what Viktor was getting at, or trying to, but it wasn’t going anywhere. “I don’t want to get sand in my ass, I don’t know.”

“Okay, fair point,” Viktor conceded, “but that’s not what you _want_ , that’s what you _don’t want_. What do you want that means everything goes right? That everything is good?”

Yuuri bowed his head, understanding that Viktor was trying to help. Normally, he would walk away, think out the worst in his head and be pleasantly surprised when the outcome was slightly less worse than what he expected. He still would prefer to do that, but he knew Viktor wasn’t going to let up on him. He said he wouldn’t.

So what was it he wanted?

Yuuri knew that answer, in general. He wanted to live up to someone he watched (often). It sounded ridiculous when that someone was a pornstar, but competition was competition, and Yuuri liked having that edge. Liked knowing that it was possible he could come out on top if he busted his ass for it.

Never in all his years did he think that that statement would be taken so literally.

Yuuri took a deep breath and met Viktor’s questioning gaze with ambition pounding in his veins. The words he always remembered people telling him about competing in dance buzzing in his mind.

“I want to have fun,” Yuuri answered. Because it was true. He couldn’t win a competition if he didn’t have fun doing what he loved.

Although in this sense— he was never crazy about sex before— it still applied. It certainly wasn’t _bad,_ by any definition of the word, and Phichit was right: getting paid to orgasm was a pretty good deal. So why not have fun with it?

He had told himself he wanted to have fun before he left, anyway.

“You?” Yuuri asked in turn, curious to see what Viktor would say.

Viktor, to his credit, only looked confused for about three seconds. A smile cracked through, and Yuuri swore he was glowing.

“That’s what I want, too.”

* * *

Eros sat on the edge of the rock, his swim shorts still dry. He had come out here to swim and clear his mind, to be free of his insecurity— a feeling Yuuri knew quite well— andyet here he was staring out over the ocean waves. It was mid-morning, the sun still climbing its way higher into the sky. Eros kicked at the sand, frustrated with himself.

He was a professional ice skater. He should have been able to win that competition, but performance anxiety coupled with facing his long time idol and rival had done him in. Now his idol was living with him for some strange reason and attempting various advances at every waking moment— Yuuri hadn’t been able to supply a backstory for that yet, but he supposed in porn it really didn’t matter.

Eros wanted to know how he could be like that, how he could be someone so charged with sexual energy, and put that on the ice. The fact that there was some other mental block was eating away at him.

“Eros!” A voice echoed off the cliffside, greeting Eros’s ears like an aria. “Eros, there you are!”

Vitya’s head popped up from behind an outcrop on the cove. He had a look of disbelief that slowly melted into this weird amalgamation of worry and relief and a strangely electric smile. Yuuri’s lips quivered, a laugh bubbling up in his chest, but he held it in, hoping that none of the cameras were actually on him, or that they would cut it out in editing.

Vitya, for his part, walked up to where Eros sat, still keeping some distance as his hands dropped to his knees and he panted. Like he had just run all the way across the world to find him, or something to that effect.

“I didn’t know where to find you,” he let the words tumble out in one breath.

“Well,” Eros shrugged, “you found me.”

“We were supposed to be at the rink today,” Vitya scolded, “you know, practicing for that Grand Prix Final you wanted to win. You can’t win if you don’t practice.”

“I understand that,” Eros replied, “but you... our arrangement makes it weird.”

Vitya sat down on the rock next to Eros, eyeing him curiously. “Our arrangement? As coach and student?”

Eros wasn’t buying that that was all it was between them. “You’re not just a coach. You... you act like you’re more than that, most of the time.”

Vitya acted like he could be with anyone he wanted, like he could ask anyone to suck his dick and they would all happily oblige. Eros wanted to be that. So much so that he was more than envious.

He was jealous that others got to experience Vitya’s body when Eros should be the one to experience it. To learn from the experience and use it to his advantage in his skating this season.

“Well, what do you want me to be to you Eros?” Vitya asked. “More than a coach, right? A friend? A father figure? A—”

“Yes,” Eros blurted out, his body snapping to attention and closing in on Vitya’s space, his brain working through precisely what he needed from Vitya.

“What?” Vitya prompted, taken aback but not quite leaning away from Eros’s face (like he was supposed to). Yuuri blushed, wondering if the heat from his cheeks could be felt on Viktor’s from this distance.

But that shouldn’t have mattered at the moment. What mattered was Eros’s next line. Yuuri gulped.

“Be my Da—”

Yuuri choked, tried to force the words and coughed in Vitya’s face instead.

Silence.

Viktor snorted.

They both laughed.

They laughed so hard that Viktor fell back against the rock and Yuuri followed, the embarrassment manifesting in dustings of pink covering their cheeks. He knew he couldn’t say it, not on the first try.

It also didn’t help that as he was about to say it, Vitya had waggled his eyebrows. Entirely unfair.

They heard someone call cut but couldn’t stop the giggles that racked their bodies. Several people walked up to them, one holding a camera and the other holding a boom mic. Viktor sat back up first, flashing a charming smile their way and waving them off, promising that they were okay and that they could try again. He then helped Yuuri sit back up, which was made harder by the laughter stealing the air from his lungs.

“I can’t— I can’t do it,” Yuuri wheezed.

Chris yelled from behind one of the cameras: “What, you have a hard time calling Viktor ‘Daddy’?”

Yuuri shook his head, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice once his fit subsided. “No!”

“Then what is it?” Chris walked up to them, initially coming onto set to make sure Vitya was still hard— although fluffing at this point might have been a lost cause.

“I-I have a hard time calling _Vitya_ ‘Daddy,’” Yuuri explained, realized how it sounded, then backpedaled so hard he could have ended up back in Detroit by midday. “Wait! Wait that’s not what I meant!” Yuuri waved his hands in front of him in some ineffectual effort to distract Chris from what he’d just said.

Chris had started laughing then, kneeling with his head in a hand, the other one abandoning its job before it had begun. Viktor, rather than laugh, was actually silent. Yuuri glanced over to see a bright red diffusing across his face.

Before Yuuri could ask, Vitya recovered. “I mean, I could call _you_ Daddy but I don’t know how well that dynamic will work if you’re the one bottoming,” he reasoned.

It was Yuuri’s turn to flush and look away, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye at that moment. He swore he heard Phichit snickering in the distance. If they weren’t on a time crunch, Yuuri would have put an end to _that_ special sort of torment.

“Here, lemme try,” Viktor offered, to which Yuuri started, fearing the worst.

Vitya laid back on his elbows, opening his legs and making a show of rubbing the tent in his own swim shorts. “C’mon, Daddy,” Vitya teased, “hop on this cock, Daddy.”

If there was an added wink, Yuuri couldn’t bear to look at it.

“ _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri admonished urgently at the same time as Chris’s hearty laugh.

Yuuri felt like he was being humiliated. Mocked. He knew he wasn’t, not entirely, but it still irritated him. He sat straight up again and looked Chris dead in the eyes.

“I can do it this time.”

Chris waved himself off with a flourish. “We’re awaiting your masterful performance, Eros,” he assured in a sultry voice.

Yuuri heard the cameras click on again and Vitya picked up precisely where they left off without a hitch.

“What?” Vitya said with the same disbelief as before.

Yuuri took a second to sink himself back into the role, back into Eros. Back into the persona that could ooze sensuality with a single, well-timed glance or flick of the head. A persona that Yuuri still wasn’t sure he believed was ever his.

But when he thought about last night, about how Viktor was utterly captivated by Yuuri sitting back and writhing, lost in pleasure. He thought about how Viktor came with Yuuri fucking his thighs. A sexual situation so potent that Yuuri wouldn’t have believed it was his doing if he hadn’t been entirely sober to witness it for himself.

He could do this. He did it last night, he could do it again.

“Be my Daddy, Vitya,” Eros demanded, inching closer into his coach’s personal space, only mere inches left between them. “Show me how to seduce you, so I can seduce the world on the ice,” he added as he threw his leg over Vitya’s lap and sat with his full weight.

“First lesson, then,” Vitya caught on, hands rubbing down Eros’s back to grasp his ass tight.

Any other words were cut off as Vitya closed the distance, his lips finding purchase on Eros’s neck. Cameras panned to the side, capturing how the space between them closed and widened fluidly, Eros’s hips grinding on Vitya’s lap, while they both set to work on each other’s loose button-downs. Taking too long, Vitya shooed Eros’s hands and ripped both their shirts the rest of the way open, buttons popping off to be lost in the sand for years to come.

They each shrugged their shirts off, Vitya’s done with practiced ease, finishing the task to wrap his arms around Eros greedily. He kissed down, following the hard slope of his neck to his collarbone, sucking loud and possessive for the camera. His hands roamed over Eros’s shoulder blades, blunt nails pulling them closer together and trailing wide white marks down his back.

Vitya stuck his tongue out then, dipping into the center of Eros’s collarbone and tracing outward along his clavicle, a path of saliva making his skin glisten. Eros made it a point to hum his contentedness as he watched Vitya kiss lewd praises into his chest, forcing himself to close his eyes as Vitya glanced upward at him before sucking a pert nipple into his mouth. Eros felt it being rolled and twisted, manipulated by and at the complete mercy of Vitya’s tongue, and his mouth let a needy sigh tumble from it.

If this was all it took to be seduced, Eros knew he had much to learn from Vitya.

Before he could go on with that thought, however, Eros was pushed onto his back against the rock, Vitya following him to continue gliding his lips down his body. The cool air that tickled his now abandoned nipple was a gentle tease, one that Yuuri knew Eros should moan for, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

Swim shorts were discarded and Eros sighed as the ocean breeze chilled the air between his legs, the promise of Vitya’s fingers and skin tantalizingly close.

“Fuck, Vitya,” Eros whined as Vitya grabbed a hold of his cock and pumped it a few times, laboriously slow.

“You think you’re ready, my student?” Vitya asked coyly.

Vitya stopped, and Eros looked over to see that one of the camera workers was gesturing for a position change, pointing to a different camera behind Vitya. He obliged, getting back up onto the rock and hovering over Eros such that they could sixty-nine easily had they both been naked.

But the camera was only focused on Eros’s, well, _southern_ exposure, and the mouth of the man facing it. Without a camera on him, Yuuri allowed himself to relax, breathing deep for a moment before Vitya began licking up the entire length of his cock without warning. Eros couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat, and it spurred Vitya on, coating his entire cock all the way around in slow stripes before taking the head in and hollowing his cheeks.

Yuuri was a tad bit sad that Viktor’s shorts were still on for this shot, but he guessed he understood. That wasn’t what the cameras were after. So he relaxed, closing his eyes, and tried to enjoy the feeling of Vitya’s warm mouth bobbing over his cock.

The wet sliding, the perfect fit of lips over skin, had Eros panting, the edges of his voice attempting to come out. It wasn’t quite a whimper, but not a full moan either. He wasn’t going to full-on moan five minutes into a shoot; he already came three times the other day, so this was just a familiar sensation. The pleasure was there, but it wouldn’t build for some time.

Vitya shifted above him and Eros felt Vitya’s hands grip his ass again and pull his hips up for a better angle. He slowly took Eros in again, tongue flicking wonders over the head and down around the shaft. Deeper and deeper, hitting the back of his throat where things got increasingly tighter, Vitya hummed appreciatively. Eros gasped, the tip of his head rubbing against the far back of Vitya’s throat making him want to buck upward.

Vitya slid lower until his nose pressed into the base of Eros’s dick, making sucking noises that were both intensely constricting and played up for the shoot. Eros’s ab muscles tightened, wondering when Vitya would move again— which didn’t take long.

Vitya deepthroated, drawing up and pushing back down, and Eros’s mouth fell open again. How Vitya knew the right ways to move was beyond him.

Well, it wasn’t far-fetched, really, when he remembered he was working with the biggest pornstar celebrity. Eros knew from personal viewing experiences what Vitya looked like in this position, easily. He let his mind wander, picturing a scene, Vitya’s pretty mouth with glistening, swollen lips and filled with cock. He bucked. Did it again when there was no complaints, and when Vitya squeezed his ass, Eros began thrusting into Vitya’s mouth.

Vitya mumbled something, words indistinguishable with a cock stuffed in his mouth, but the vibrations had Eros moaning.

“Oh, Daddy—” Eros managed, grimacing at the line and hoping it didn’t make either of them go soft. He didn’t want to laugh but he didn’t really enjoy it either. Not really his thing.

It was such a smooth glide, no teeth, all wet heat and tongue and throat and noises that would have had him finishing had he been a teenager again. Eros bit his lip, a groan escaping every couple thrusts, while he stared at Vitya’s clothed ass above him. He snaked his hands upward and repeated the same motion Vitya was doing to him, groping and squeezing in encouragement. Yuuri tried to memorize how it felt, if not just for later material, then for learning from it.

This was a lesson, after all.

The same motions went on for a few more minutes before Eros’s hips tired and Vitya pulled off, licking and sucking up the side and flicking his tongue out to play with the slit before leaning up to sit back, his lap now behind Eros’s head.

Vitya lowered his head, smirking down at Eros. There was a nice trail of precome and saliva dripping down his chin. “You ready for the next lesson?” he asked, his voice gravelly and rough.

Yuuri was still staring at those engorged lips when he muttered: “Yes, Daddy.”

Vitya’s grin trembled and there was pink on his cheeks and Yuuri realized too late that it wasn’t in the script and he _just said that_ —

“Cut,” Sofie called from the side, unaffected. “Take a break and we’ll continue from the water’s edge.”

As soon as the camera workers moved away Viktor stopped hiding his giggle, his body shaking with laughter and by extension, shaking Yuuri’s head in his lap. Yuuri turned away and got up, ignoring his erection shamefully and grabbing a robe and a bottle of water that was offered to him. If he didn’t know better, he would think that the sheer amount of embarrassment he had already endured ten minutes into the shoot was making him thirsty.

Viktor’s laugh was joined by two others, and Yuuri turned to see Chris holding his stomach and Phichit lying flat in the sand, his body shivering with giggles.

Chris knelt down to look over Phichit with something akin to affection in his eyes. “Are you ready for your next lesson, _my student_?” he mocked.

Phichit stopped giggling long enough to reply, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, yes Daddy!” he cried out as they burst into laughter again.

“Phichit!” Yuuri yelled indignantly.

Phichit sat up and wiped his face down, earning help to his feet from Chris before walking over to hug Yuuri from the side. “I’m only playing, Yuuri. It sounded great.”

“It sounded very sexy,” Chris agreed, but couldn’t hide the small chuckle afterwards.

“It sounded like I just lost my boner for the shoot,” Yuuri said dramatically. “I’m done. Chris, you go film with Vitya.”

“Okay, _Viktor,_ ” Chris answered. “Gosh you two sound more and more like each other every day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viktor pouted, then, turning toward Yuuri. “You won’t leave, right?”

Yuuri broke his frown into a small smile and shook his head. Viktor looked like a puppy that had been abandoned, which was only funny to him because of the scenario they were actually in. “I’m not leaving, Viktor,” he promised, “but I’m very close to losing my hard-on right now, so I’m going to go get fluffed.”

“Oh, that’ll be with me!” Phichit piped up. “The other company said we had to provide that ourselves. Why do you think I’m here?”

Yuuri blanched. “I thought you were working on the cameras!”

“I am,” Phichit shrugged, “but Ethie’s got a good hold on the equipment and it seems that the camerawoman from this other company knows quite a bit, too. I’m sure they’re fine without me. C’mon, Yuuri.”

Yuuri was a little hesitant, but followed anyway. He admitted that the lines in their friendship had always been a little blurred, but they had never quite ventured this far. They had talked about way worse before, but the most they had done before was make out one night when they were both drunk in college. It wasn’t bad, and Yuuri probably wouldn’t mind it again because he was just that comfortable, but he wasn’t sure about jumping from kissing to getting a handjob from his best friend.

This was work, he reminded himself yet again today. This was work.

Phichit took him over to a nearby rock void of most sands and sat him down. They weren’t outside of the group but they weren’t in the way, either. Yuuri sat on his hands and looked out over the water, listening to the ocean tide sweep in, ripples tripping over each other as they tumbled up the coast. He tried to focus on it, pinching his face with the effort by the time he felt his robe being slid open.

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s voice brought him back, “you’re not even that soft. You sure you need a fluffer?”

At the question, Yuuri looked down and was faced with a picture he hadn’t thought about before. Phichit was kneeling in the sand in front of him, a dark hand on his thigh, contrasting nicely as his finger tapped patiently. Yuuri’s dick was up, but leaning over to the side.

Yuuri sucked in a breath. “It’s not going to go back up otherwise, I think, if I have to keep saying that to Viktor.”

“To Vitya,” Phichit corrected with a raised eyebrow. “You’re calling _Vitya_ ‘Daddy,’ remember?”

Yuuri nodded, his dick twitching conspicuously, the traitor. “You’re right,” he said in a small voice.

Phichit took a hold of him without any further instruction and began stroking. His touch was light, ginger, but quick and effective. Yuuri forgot he was staring until Phichit looked him in the eye. “This good?”

“Ah—” Yuuri’s head swiveled back up, looking anywhere but down. He caught eye of Viktor laughing at something Chris said while he was being fluffed by the same man, which only made him more aware of Phichit’s ministrations. “I-It’s fine.”

Phichit thankfully didn’t answer or talk further, probably sensing Yuuri’s unease. Because although it felt great, Yuuri almost felt bad about enjoying it when Viktor was right there.

Then again, he knew it shouldn’t matter. He and Viktor weren’t together, not anywhere close. Thinking like this was going to lead him down a path he didn’t want to take and it would hurt if he didn’t stop himself. He tried to look elsewhere.

His view fell upon two women talking loud enough to overhear, one of whom he recognized as the camerawoman from the last shoot.

“I mean he did great in that shot with the standing dildo but that third camera angle could have been a little higher,” the girl with brown hair— Kaylie, Yuuri recalled— said, gesturing with her hands to some invisible set.

“That was my camera,” the other girl cried, the one he had talked to in his last shoot. “I thought it looked fine at the time!”

Kaylie raised an eyebrow. “Do you need an angle coach?”

The girl whose name escaped Yuuri at the moment gasped. “Oh my god, are we going to practice on _them_ ? I can’t— I’ll die! I almost _hit Eros’s ass_ in the last shoot!”

Kaylie laughed, then something piqued her attention. She leaned in closer to the other and spoke in a lower voice that Yuuri had to strain to hear. “Is it really as great as it looks on camera?”

“Better!” the other girl whispered back.

That fact seemed to satisfy the first girl’s curiosity as she stood rod straight. “Alright first lesson—!”

“See,” Phichit spoke up, Yuuri having forgotten that he was being fluffed until the warming motion around his cock stopped, “everybody loves you, Yuuri.”

Ah, Phichit must have overheard them too. While flattering, Yuuri knew better. “They’re just doing their job.”

“They are…” Phichit gave Yuuri an annoyed look, clearly seeing through Yuuri’s facade straight to his anxiety. He exhaled slowly and pointed toward Viktor, who was now coming toward them, “so you should do yours.”

Yuuri glared, but Phichit just returned it mockingly, knowing he was right.

“Yuuri!” Viktor’s voice lilted as he waved, a broad smile across his face. “Ready to get back to filming?”

And there was something about Viktor, the way he so gracefully picked Yuuri up by the waist and spun him around in the middle of the set, excited and radiating happiness and ignoring everyone else around them, that had Yuuri smiling too.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yuuri asked, concerned about the number of people currently looking at them despite the joy on his face.

“I told you,” Viktor set him down, hands still around his waist like he forgot them there, “I haven’t had sex on the beach before! I want it to be fun so I’m excited about it. Aren’t you?”

The texts on Yuuri’s phone from the plane came to his mind. It was an interesting confession for a pornstar to have, but Yuuri supposed he still had other firsts not yet explored, too.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered genuinely, “I am.”

Viktor hugged him suddenly, arms latching on like an octopus, swinging giddily. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s rather impressive erection through the swim shorts he had still wore. “Great! Let’s go!”

Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure why this made Viktor so exuberant, why having sex on the beach on camera should be entertaining for them when they had yet to get started, but he went with it. He said he wanted to have fun, and sex was fun, given the right person.

And Viktor was definitely the right person for sex.

* * *

“On your knees for me,” Vitya instructed, “face the ocean and open up that pretty little ass for me.”

Eros rested his head on his crossed arms, facing back toward Vitya in an awkward turn for his spine. His knees splayed apart, he watched the camera in front of Vitya come in close and pan shots. Yuuri tried and failed not to look in the lens.

“Oh, Eros,” Vitya moaned, reminding Yuuri what they were doing, “c’mon, show me that hole.”

Eros shifted, bringing his hands behind him to spread his cheeks. He sighed as the light breeze cooled the lube that was spread around back there, far more than there needed to be but just right for the effect they wanted, he guessed. He closed his eyes and moved his hips around in a leisurely circle.

Eros heard Vitya slather lube over his cock from behind him, as well as several cameras moving around. Distracted by the heat of Vitya’s body so close to his, Eros pulled a little wider.

Then he felt Vitya’s blunt cock head smearing in between his cheeks. He hummed in anticipation.

“Someone seems eager for their next lesson,” Vitya said, lust thick in his voice, still sliding back and forth.

“Teach me how to take it, coach,” Eros poked, a camera recording the smirk he gave.

Without wasting a moment, Vitya pushed in. Slower than Eros would like. He tried to push back, sinking further onto Vitya’s cock, but the stretch was delicious in its own right and he allowed Vitya to pull him off completely just to fill him again. He knew he would get the full thing eventually, so he tried to goad Vitya on, clenching around it every time it came back to him.

Vitya slapped his ass. “I won’t go easy on you,” he warned, sucking in a sharp breath as he pushed back in, slower and slower until he was fully seated.

Eros, and Yuuri, for that matter, reeled at the feeling. He was taken, full, and he wanted more. But he had to behave. Returning his gaze to Vitya, head against the sand, he parted his lips. “Yes, coach.”

Vitya had a camera in front of him, so when Eros felt the extra hand on his ass he was a little surprised. Vitya gripped and pulled, sliding out ever so slowly. He groaned pushing back in, and continued this for a minute before shifting again, now on his feet instead of his knees.

Vitya hovered over Eros and the camera that was there now sat behind them, out of the way of them directly. Eros could picture it, his ass surrounded by Vitya’s legs, his hole in between his cheeks tight around Vitya’s cock. He’d seen the type of shot in many of Vitya’s other films. It was a good position to show off his size, and Eros definitely wasn’t complaining. The only real thing that might have bothered him was that he couldn’t sense Vitya’s warmth around him because he had to be elevated so the camera could see what it was there to capture in the first place.

Vitya crouched, thrusting his hips shallowly, his hands awkward on Eros’s back, pushing Eros’s shoulders further into the sand. It was at least angled nicely, the head of Vitya’s cock only just far enough inside and pressing forward a bit to reach that spot that had Eros moaning again. This was something that he could keep up with forever.

Vitya, on the other hand, shifted again after a few minutes. The motions were beginning to wear on both their knees, so he bore more of his weight onto Eros while simultaneously lifting Eros up by digging his hand underneath to pull on his chest. Eros obeyed the change, supporting himself by the heel of his palms, and was rewarded by Vitya’s cock inching deeper inside to pump from there.

Back flush to chest, Eros could feel Vitya’s heartbeat slamming into him at the exact same rate. Vitya was panting in his ear, whispering reminders to use his voice. Eros rolled his eyes knowing the cameras wouldn’t see it because the only thing in front of him here was the ocean. The sun was warm on his face, contrasting vastly with the cold water—

Water?

The tide had washed further inward, crashing over his palms and up to where his legs were spread. The rush of air salty air blew in between them. It probably made for a nice shot.

Vitya, however, wasn’t prepared for the change and didn’t adjust to the sands soaking and sinking. His feet slipped and before he could regain balance he ducked his head into Eros’s neck and fell, rolling them over so that Eros was stuck on top, stunned but not as wet as Vitya now was, back in the damp sand.

They lay there wondering whether they should keep going or stop. Yuuri couldn’t help the small snort, though, and so the decision was made for them.

Viktor’s chest underneath him shook, the laughter that burst fuller when Yuuri was pressed right up to it. A beautiful sound that had him laughing too.

“Cut,” Yakov called out, walking up to them, “what are you two doing?”

“Don’t worry, Yakov,” Viktor breathed, the effort to laugh with Yuuri on top of him probably more than he thought, “we can just _wave_ it off and go to the next one.”

Yakov’s scowl deepened. Whereas Yuuri would have stopped and apologized, Viktor continued.

“The _current_ one was getting tiring, after all,” he emphasized, dissolving into laughter that Yuuri hated to share in because it was _awful_ and not helping their situation but it also felt strange with his dick still inside him.

Strange and oddly arousing.

Yakov wasn’t having any of it. “Resume position. Now,” he ordered before leaving them at the mercy of the cameras.

“Think you can _tide_ yourself over for a few more minutes before we take a break?” Viktor asked low in Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri groaned, not pleasurably. “Hold me up so we can continue or I’m leaving you unfinished.”

“Oh, Eros,” Vitya emerged, whispering hot down his neck, “I’m _shore_ you wouldn’t do that,” he thrust upward, causing Yuuri’s groan to cut off into a gasp halfway.

Nope. That was still Viktor.

“Wait until the cameras start rolling, please!” Someone called from behind one.

Eros flushed, craning his neck to glare at Vitya. “You can do better than that,” he said as he sat more fully on Vitya to stop him from teasing.

Vitya winced, his face scrunching in pained arousal. “Fine, fine, okay— you win.”

“Good to go!” Kaylie reminded them of where they were.

Eros faced the cameras again, a flush of anxiety on his cheeks as he held himself up with his hands in the sand and his feet on Vitya’s knees. If he and Vitya had been using their practice sessions more pragmatically, they would have tried this out to see how they could get it to work. Having not done that, Eros just hoped he would have the strength to keep himself up.

Vitya had his hands bracing Eros’s lower back, arching it up so that Eros could have leverage to bounce. If it hadn’t been for that, Eros would have been more focused on the glide of Vitya’s cock and probably be in a worse place, considering how much left they still had to film according to the script.

The camera zoomed right up to where it counted with no sense of personal space. Eros kept his eyes closed after that.

How on earth did Vitya ever keep this position for so long? Eros remembered a film he had watched where this was the only position for nearly ten minutes— and that was obviously after editing. Perhaps the gorgeous, hard muscles weren’t all for show. Eros pushed up, sank down, repeated, all the while making obscene noises to hide the noise of the cameras zooming or to be heard over the sound of the ocean.

His foot slipped off of Vitya’s knee at some point, and as he was returning it, Vitya’s grip on him tightened, holding him up in the air and rendering him motionless. Eros twisted his back to the side, exposing Vitya’s face— now very pink— as Eros wrapped an arm around the back of Vitya’s neck.

Vitya took the opportunity to lift his hips up off the sand, pushing further inside. Eros reveled in it, gasping at the dichotomous sensation of both being showcased on a pedestal and being used as a fuck toy. Vitya quickened his pace, pounding into Eros from below. The movement made it hard to keep his legs up, so Eros lowered them. Vitya’s hands wrapped under his knees and he continued practically assaulting Eros’s hole, the sounds of wet skin slapping and sliding rivaling the ocean sounds behind them.

Eros was lulled into a space where he could zone out, his mouth falling open and his sounds no longer his own. Then there was a sharp, nibbling sensation on his nipple. He looked down to see Vitya eyeing him with something akin to curious disapproval.

He really wasn’t going to take this easy on him. Fuck.

Eros wanted to touch himself so badly, but holding himself up with one hand in the damp sand while Vitya forced his body to bounce did not sound like the smart move to make. He held himself there as long as he could, but once Vitya began to slow, Eros wanted to collapse. His arms were tired. As a ballet dancer, the stronger muscles were in his legs. He hadn’t really used those yet.

Hoping they’d spent long enough in this position, Eros discreetly tapped Vitya’s shoulder and tried to sit up. Vitya stilled, grabbing Eros’s back to help him off. When his dick slipped out, some old lube followed. Off camera someone tossed him some lube and he quickly reapplied it before shimmying himself so that he was parallel with the coast.

Vitya motioned for Eros to come back, a devious smirk on his lips. Yuuri knew what that meant.

“Do you think you can show me what you’ve learned?” Vitya said in character, like a true coach, or as much as he could considering their current situation.

It meant Eros had to reply in character as well. Burying his embarrassment deep down, and praying that Vitya would do the same and _not laugh_ this time, Eros swung a leg over and stood on his knees over Vitya’s cock, holding it up teasingly close to his open hole.

“Yes, Daddy,” Eros licked his lips, “you’ve taught me so much.”

It was grossly inaccurate, Yuuri felt, for anyone to learn something like sensuality from this, but then again, porn storylines were never that true to life. Much like the sex.

Speaking of, Eros lined Vitya back up and slowly lowered himself down, using his thighs more for their intended purpose— lifting his body. In this case, it was lifting his ass off a cock over and over again, but still, the same principle applied.

Eros rode like it was the only thing he knew how to do, still relishing the slide thanks to reapplication but starting to feel a little numb. He stroked his own cock, bringing it back to a full, aching hardness that it hadn’t quite been at before, plus some. From this angle, he could make sure that Vitya was watching him, able to see if and when things were going wrong. He could show Vitya how much his cock meant to Eros as a way to learn more about his sensuality. Yuuri inwardly cringed, but it made sense for the character.

Or so he guessed. It really didn’t matter as long as he could keep this going.

There was a camera behind them, situated in between Vitya’s legs, as well as one at their side pointing toward them with the ocean in the background, and another at Vitya’s head, focusing on Eros— his torso and below, for the most part. It was a couple more than he was used to, now that he was in a far more lucid state than he normally was during sex, and it staved off any effort his body might have made toward reaching an orgasm.

Perhaps he didn’t need to come three times the night before to make this shoot possible. Either way, he didn’t regret it, didn’t regret making it seem like Yuuri and Viktor were something that could happen even when he knew it couldn’t. He liked the power of control too much; being in charge of how he lived his life, how he handled the things that came his way, was a wonderful feeling. It was that power that kept him bouncing on Vitya's cock, seemingly indefatigable even after nearly half an hour straight.

They had to cut the scene when once again the tide came in, flooding over Vitya’s body and causing him to cough, the seawater having gotten into his mouth mid-moan. Yuuri had tried and failed not to laugh, although he was concerned for Viktor’s safety as well.

When they got up to move back over toward the cove for something less sandy— Yuuri was still wiping a towel down there after several minutes— Yuuri noticed that Viktor’s back was startlingly more pale than his front. In fact...

“Viktor,” Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “I think you’re—”

“Ow!” Viktor jumped back, hand flying to his shoulder as he stared at Yuuri. “What was that for?”

Yuuri was about to answer when Chris spoke for him. “You’re turning red, Viktor. Not even a sexy, flushed red. Just burnt, unsexy red.”

Viktor ducked his chin to take a look at his torso. A softly muttered curse fell from his lips before he recovered, shrugging. “It’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

Yuuri was about to point out that Viktor did, in fact, yell ‘ow’ two seconds ago, when a bottle of sunscreen was tossed into his hands. It slammed against his chest, his reaction time stuttering to catch it correctly as he recovered from the hit to his sensitive skin.They all looked to see Yakov with a dash of the lotion on his nose. There were several quiet snickers.

“Put it on, Vitya,” he grumbled, “I don’t need my star actor getting so sunburnt he can’t move the next day.”

“It can get that bad?” Viktor’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t put on any sunscreen to start?” Chris asked incredulously.

Viktor and Yuuri stole a glance at each other. Clearly, neither of them had even remotely thought of it. It was still the winter season in their minds. Yuuri almost never wore sunscreen anyway, his skin more adaptive to the sun’s rays than Viktor’s pale European skin. Viktor actually looked like he never spent time in the sun south of the Canadian border.

Viktor uncapped the bottle and squeezed a rather large amount lotion onto his arm, far more than he needed. Yuuri raised his hand to offer help, but Viktor was already smearing it around, the cream just sliding around on his skin instead of saturating it. Viktor’s brow furrowed further, attempting to pick up some of the extra product and disperse it onto his chest and other arm with little success.

Yuuri, taking pity on the sunburnt pornstar, took his arm and scooped up the product, applying it to the underside of the arm that Viktor had ignored. “Have you never worn sunscreen before?”

Viktor relaxed under his touch, his muscles loosening under Yuuri’s palms as his skin absorbed the lotion. His eyes followed Yuuri’s circular patterns, mirroring the same with leftover product on his chest. Yuuri could feel the heat rolling off of Viktor, only now realizing that it was because of the sunburn. For the most part.

“It’s never been necessary before,” Viktor explained before growling in frustration, “why is it so much oilier than regular lotion? This can’t be good for me,” he muttered as he rubbed it in harder, the red of his skin turning white with how hard he was pressing.

Yuuri put his hand over Viktor’s, effectively stopping him. Slowly, he plucked Viktor’s hand off of his chest and guided it, using Viktor’s hand to rub the lotion in more gently. Viktor closed his eyes, his chest expanding and collapsing steadily under Yuuri’s fingertips. Yuuri smoothed it over as much red skin as he could manage, watching Viktor’s face for signs of distress.

At the front of Viktor’s left shoulder, he winced. “Yuuri,” he whined, inching away from the contact, “it hurts. Feels like my skin is going to burst and fall apart. I’ll be ugly, Yuuri!”

Yuuri shook his head, lightening his touch a bit while pouring a little extra in that area. Viktor hissed, but the cold lotion was probably nice compared to the angry heat. “I’m sorry, Viktor,” he sympathized, “I should have thought about it. It’s my fault.”

Viktor’s hand, still slimy with lotion, wrapped around Yuuri’s wrist and squeezed, slipping slightly. Yuuri looked up from his shoulder to see Viktor frowning. “It’s not your fault. We couldn’t have known.”

“But the sun’s only going to get hotter,” Yuuri pointed out, pouring a little onto his finger and beckoning Viktor’s face to come closer. Viktor followed, closing his eyes and trusting Yuuri to be careful applying it to his face. It was incredibly soft, and from here Yuuri could see the palest of freckles, small constellations that dotted Viktor’s cheeks, nose, and forehead unevenly. He traced them as he went, yearning to protect them like the hidden treasures they were. It was an area of Viktor’s body that wasn’t burned yet, but Yuuri didn’t want to take chances. A sunburned face hurt much worse.

“I’ll be fine, Yuuri,” Viktor reassured, a smile forcing Yuuri to stop admiring and start mushing product into his cheeks to smooth out the lines Viktor couldn’t stop making. “You’re taking such good care of me.”

Yuuri took his hand away, partially because of the comment and partially because he was done applying the sunscreen. His cheeks were starting to feel warm, so he put some of the lotion onto his own face as well, praying for once in his life that it was actually a sunburn. “I should be saying that to you. This shoot isn’t making me as sore as I thought it would. A little numb, but not bad.”

Viktor chuckled. “I think part of that’s your stamina. I would have taken five breaks by now if I was bottoming.”

“I think that’s just your age showing, Viktor,” Yuuri joked.

Viktor crossed his arms over his chest, now glistening with several layers of sunscreen, and pursed his lips in annoyance. “One second you’re nice and the next you’re mean. Worse than mean, downright evil.”

Yuuri finished putting on his own bit of sunscreen and gave the bottle to one of the workers before clapping a hand onto Viktor’s shoulder lightly. The touch still had Viktor flinching, but that was the intention.

“You’ll be okay,” he assured with a charmed little smile that had Viktor narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yakov walking up to them and raising an eyebrow in question. Impatience wore on his face like any other mask he had, but there was something in his eyes that Yuuri couldn’t quite read. Either way, when Yakov tapped his forefinger to his watch, Yuuri got the message. He turned to Viktor, who was nodding with a curt wave of _we understand_ before making eye contact with Yuuri again.

“Now let’s get back to our lessons, Vitya,” Eros purred, dark eyes and extended hand inviting.

“That’s Coach Vitya to you,” Viktor responded in kind, taking Yuuri’s hand with no reservation. No hesitation.

* * *

Eros’s hand slipped off the rock. Again.

His body collapsed onto the rock instead, no longer caring about the sharper pebbles getting caught on his ribcage as Vitya fucked him against the cliff face. Every time he propped himself up so that he could somewhat face Vitya behind him, a particularly hard thrust would force his grip to slide. Eros wasn’t sure if it was on purpose, but the delicious glide of hard cock inside of him was difficult to disagree with.

It wasn’t just a camera trick; Vitya was good at his job. He knew the places to touch, to ignore, to tease and to caress, all while keeping his hips at a steady pace. Eros hummed his bliss, subtly pushing his hips back to meet Vitya’s. The slap of skin was a rhythm they danced to, keeping the beat quick and sharp.

About time, in all honesty. When they started in this position, Vitya’s skin was still slippery from the sunscreen. He had attempted to hold Yuuri up against the cliff face but it had soon become clear that that wasn’t going to work. So here they were, Eros leaning over a rock and curving his body as much as he could to watch Vitya make his ass bounce. It was a position Eros couldn’t name for the life of him, but god, when that dick seated itself deep inside, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The pleasure was finally culminating in his gut, warming like the first drink on a Friday night. He kept his moans measured, timed with the thrusts so that he didn’t have to think about it, like a step sequence or something. He couldn’t really remember anything about figure skating other than what had been in their script for the shoot.

A camera click and some footsteps alerted Eros to his front, his head spinning to meet a camera lens nearly in his face. It was angled off, probably mostly lined down his body. Eros closed his eyes to picture what it looked like, to see Vitya behind him, and pair it with what he was feeling in his stretched-out walls. But the illusion kept breaking the longer that the camera was on him, and he was starting to fidget in place, even as Vitya slowed to more languid strokes.

“Show them how much you love my cock, Eros,” Vitya muttered as he squeezed Eros’s hip and pushed forward suddenly, bringing Yuuri back to the task at hand.

Eros’s mouth fell open, a wanton moan tumbling from his lips. He eyed the camera, a finger tracing his lip. He pretended to be sensual in every movement, focusing on making it look unintentionally intentional. Vitya was always able to do it.

Then there was a hand around his cock, which had been ignored for some time now, and Eros almost cried out. The feeling overwhelmed him, the warmth concentrating hotter and hotter, closing him in on an edge he hadn’t known he was reaching. Now he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to buck forward or plunge backward, into Vitya’s hand or onto Vitya’s cock. Between a hand and a hard place. Also a rock and a hard place, technically.

Just as Eros could feel the strings pulling taut and about to snap, Vitya pulled out, his hands returning to ensnare Eros’s hips, to still them and hold them captive. Eros couldn’t stop the cry of frustration as he tried to move anyway, hungry for friction.

Vitya’s cock slid up along his cheeks instead, teasing and testing Eros’s patience with each slow swipe. Eros looked over his shoulder to see Vitya holding himself over Eros, slapping his dick over the entrance purely for show, a camera picking up every single frame. But all Eros wanted to do was take it back in, the edging having frayed at his sanity.

Apparently sensing Eros’s pitiful desperation, Vitya snaked a hand down Eros’s inner thigh, hoisting up his leg and lining himself up again. He pressed in, the hole feeling a little tighter out of Eros’s eagerness to get Vitya back inside. His fingers gripping Eros’s leg were firm, holding him in place so that he could push and pull at a leisurely pace without Eros interfering. Once Eros sensed that he was being told to behave, he relaxed a bit more and set his let on a rock at about the same height, trusting Vitya to take advantage of what Eros offered him.

The pleasure finally back down to its earlier plateau, Eros collected himself and threw his glance over his shoulder again. Unlike last time, however, Vitya wasn’t too busy to catch Eros’s eye. He kept the contact, a challenge gleaming in his eyes as he pointedly thrusted it little harder.

It hit a spot, and Yuuri scrabbled on the rock for purchase, a groan escaping his throat. Vitya continued, eyes never breaking away. His face slowly became more debauched, and Eros guessed that his was, too, because their pace picked up again and Vitya was fucking Eros more earnestly with each passing thrust.

Eventually, Vitya was going so hard that Eros’s foot slipped. Vitya’s cock slipped out mid-thrust, and the resulting motion jarred both of them. Eros’s balance teetered and he practically tumbled over the rock, only stopped from falling completely by Vitya’s arms wrapping around him and bringing them flush together. Vitya’s feet stumbled for a moment before they froze, knowing that the frame was basically ruined at this point.

Vitya’s groan of discontent and mild pain broke off into a laugh. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

The cameras click off and Viktor set Yuuri down, pulling out with a nearly satisfying squelch. The desire to finish was dragging Yuuri’s frame, his erection painfully hard after staying up for so long. When he turned to Viktor, who was receiving some sort of instruction from a camera worker, he couldn’t help his eyes traveling downward.

Viktor’s cock was leaking— because of Yuuri, hopefully. Either way, he couldn’t help but indulge in the fact that the entire length had been inside him for a couple hours now. He knew he would feel sore after this was over, but the hormones were still rushing through his system. He stared, willing it to come back to him, until he realized Viktor had turned toward him.

“Yakov!” Viktor called past Yuuri. “I think we need to switch to our last position. Do you have enough footage of this?”

Yakov and Sofie whispered, pointed toward several cameras and making multiple gestures. Yuuri all but bowed in prayer, hoping they would just tell them to finish right then and there, because Yuuri was so hard and Viktor was right there and honestly they could just fuck and get it over with right now and—

Yakov nodded. A rush of relief almost as gratifying threatened to pull him under, his legs weakening at the prospect of being able to lie down again.

Yuuri walked over to the side of the beach, right at the edge of where the damp sands met the dry, coarse sands, and laid down completely, his body starfishing. A gratuitous sigh racked his entire frame and he closed his eyes.

Then it was darker, even behind his eyelids. He opened them to find Viktor leaning over him with a smirk on his face. “Do you need to be fluffed at all before we head into this last stretch?”

Yuuri couldn’t tell for sure, but it had to be another pun. Somewhere. His brain was tiring too, from the looks of it. “Well, if you keep having a hard time keeping it in, I just might have to do the rest of this myself,” he teased halfheartedly.

Viktor narrowed his eyes, the smirk faltering as he folded his arms defensively. “You were the one that slipped! And you give your solos too much credit; you’re far more mediocre than you think.”

Ouch. Yuuri glanced away before Viktor could see the shred of doubt flash across his face. Every tiny voice that told him he wasn’t good enough for or at something, that told him he was wasting Vitya’s time, all sounded like Viktor now. It was a low blow, an effective cut slicing through his arousal. His hands began to clam up and he had to bite his lip to stop the tears from welling in his eyes.

Viktor must have seen through his pitiful mask, because he was suddenly leaning closer into Yuuri, their foreheads not quite touching but their breaths stealing each other’s space. Viktor had an apologetic look on his face. “It’s okay, you don’t have to go solo as long as I’m here.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure whether he wanted to correct Viktor or tell him he was an idiot. A moment of faux tenderness wouldn’t be enough to erase the harmful words, to crumple the shadow of doubt in his mind and toss it in the trash. If anything, it began to add to his worries. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yakov scowling— worse than normal, if possible. And he could hear the whispers of the people around them, a constant reminder that they were on set, at a job. Not alone. Not together.

Viktor saying he would be there so that Yuuri didn’t have to look pathetic only made him feel more pathetic, more useless.

Then his hand, warm and a little sweaty and still smelling of lotion, was cupping Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri caved, meeting Viktor’s gaze with a little less enthusiasm.

“Can I make up for it?” Viktor asked as his other hand— which Yuuri had been too far inside his own head to notice— slid down Yuuri’s chest and skirted playfully around Yuuri’s still straining erection. “Can I make you come for me?”

Yuuri thought there was some sort of epiphany going off in his mind. A sex epiphany. Perhaps Viktor was trying to motivate him, get him through the last of the shoot by proving to Viktor that he was capable of taking this cock until the end. It wasn’t a great tactic, but at least this way, with their bodies close and still reacting to each other, he understood.

Viktor, without warning, grabbed Yuuri’s dick and pumped twice, seeming to relish in the way Yuuri gasped.

“I said wait until we start filming, you two!”

Yuuri was about to reprimand Viktor, but the dare in his eyes was blindingly obvious. He laid back onto the beach instead, allowing his body to create a crater in the damp sand as it shifted underneath him. The moisture cooled his back, which was a nice feeling after being exposed to the sun for so long.

Viktor’s sunburn wasn’t getting worse, not from what Yuuri could tell, but he still pondered, still felt sorry about not telling Viktor to wear sunscreen in the first place. The man really should have known better, but Yuuri wouldn’t have been in the wrong to mention it. Either way, it didn’t look bad enough to stop filming, meaning they probably didn’t care if it showed up a little on camera. No one was worried unless it involved Vitya’s dick, just like he said. Now Yuuri sort of understood what he meant, and it was a little disheartening, borderline dehumanizing.

Yuuri could at least make this last bit of filming worth his while, and short enough to get him out of the sun in time.

Vitya settled Eros’s hips onto his lap, fingers splaying across his inner thighs as he attempted to line up his cock without guiding it, purely for the sake of the camera. Eros, for his part, relaxed as much as he could, ignoring everything outside of the two of them and practically melting into the sand. The teasing would end soon and he could let go, enjoying it for what it really was, what it was supposed to be. He could forget the cameras for this last little bit and pretend it was just them.

Like last night. Like earlier that week. He liked those times.

Eros eyes blinked open, his lips parting in a soft gasp when Vitya pushed himself back in as easily as ever. Groaning, he glanced up to see the last of Vitya’s cock disappear inside him, filling him once again.

And when Vitya shifted, his support disappearing from under Eros’s hips, Eros held his ass in the air by his hands, elbows sinking into the sand. His weight was now mostly on his shoulders, his calves resting on either side of his head, pleasingly bent in half. Vitya flowed with him, now squatting over him in what should be an awkward position, but the cameras were occupied elsewhere. Vitya winked at him before he pulled all the way out and pushed back in. He repeated that a few times, a camera zooming in to see Eros’s hole opening and accepting and gaping and empty.

It was an incredible turn-on, to see his hole taking Vitya so easily. Something about being filled like it was nothing by that large cock, being able to take it all in, had Yuuri’s own cock twitching painfully. The fluidity of the motion, the ease with which Vitya could play with him, had Eros keening, wanting Vitya to drop the act.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, Eros, but your flexibility is remarkable,” Vitya said then, his voice cutting through Eros’s thoughts.

Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking of his words but also watching Vitya fuck him excruciatingly slow and praying he would be able to come soon. “Gotta keep in shape for those… er, spins,” Eros remembered vaguely. Couldn’t think of the move he meant even if he tried; it wasn’t like he really figure skated.

“And this dick,” Vitya added with the first hard thrust, now fully inside. He chuckled then, the vibrations echoing where it counted and Yuuri’s back arched further, nearly toppling them. Eros reigned himself in, recognizing the laugh as something to be heard on stage and not meant for pleasure, fake. Instead, he fell back into his wordless mantra of moans as Vitya rocked into him.

Eros shifted his weight, leaving one arm to hold himself up while his other went to palm his aching cock. He couldn’t take it. Squeezing and pumping, stroking and twisting, Eros didn’t stop. On that edge, his gasps were strained and his eyes were shut tight, anticipating the release that was he was on the cusp of receiving. Yuuri didn’t care if it was early, he’d been denied the climb for too long already and he wasn’t about to be edged again.

Thankfully, no one seemed to stop him. Vitya only pounded into him harder. Eros came to the sting and sound of skin slapping against skin, his body coiling tight and releasing everything that had been pent up since starting the shoot.

“I— ah,” Eros attempted to warn weakly, realizing it was too late, thick ropes of come spilling onto his abs and chest, dripping further due to his ass still up in the air, being fucked through the orgasm.

The tide came up, only a little, washing around them just barely. A refreshing, tingling notion, the water splashing and curling around them. It probably made for some aesthetic shot.

When the tide retreated again, Vitya pulled out, falling to his knees and straddling Eros. Pinned to the sand, Eros could only watch as Vitya stroked himself quick and dirty, sucking in a breath when Vitya’s muscles constricted and he finished across Eros’s chest, neck, and face. Yuuri, sated, closed his eyes and opened his mouth, earning a few drops on his cheeks and tongue.

Only to recognize the salty taste and a split second later remember this was against the rules. He wasn’t sure about the rules when they were involved with another company, however, so he froze in place, praying that they wouldn’t get into trouble like last time. He didn’t want either of them getting another strike.

Vitya’s voice spoke softly over the crash of the ocean waves. “How did you like your first lessons, Eros?” he asked suggestively.

Eros opened his eyes halfway, lidded and smoldering as best as he could manage with come all over his face. “You know I’m always ready for more, Coach.”

* * *

With the cameras shut off and people moving around again, Viktor got off of Yuuri but made no move to walk away unlike previous shoots. He leaned down close to Yuuri’s ear. 

“Stay still and swallow what you’ve got. I’ll clean you up to hide it.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s on camera. They saw it,” he said, although he followed Viktor’s instructions anyway. The taste dripped down his throat, a bitter, slightly sour experience. He wasn’t particularly fond of it, but perhaps part of it may have been the seawater that had gotten to them.

Viktor was handed a couple of wipes by one of the extra hands and wasted no time in taking care of Yuuri first, the latter still lying in the sand. He wiped up and down, smoothing over the muscle and careful to not leave a trace of what they’d done behind. Even places that didn’t need to be cleaned were cleaned, and sand was swept off as best as Viktor could manage. He then used the second wipe, the one meant for him, on Yuuri’s face, gently patting and clearing his cheeks and neck. All the while, his expression was kind, a small smile apparently his neutral expression. His eyes reflected the ocean so readily, Yuuri forgot he was staring until Viktor began swiping over his forehead.

“I can do this part myself, you know,” Yuuri complained, turning his head away.

But Viktor gently guided his face back over, their eyes meeting again. “I know. I’m just repaying the favor,” he whispered before leaning back and offering a hand to stand them up.

From there, people began cleaning up as usual, with the addition of scrubbing sand off of every surface that sand could have possibly gotten onto— and places it really shouldn’t have been able to reach. Yuuri, when toweling off, was surprised to find that not that much sand had gotten back there, although there was still some in plenty of other places that might travel south if he wasn’t careful.

The director came up to him, with a thanks and several compliments he didn’t really hear above the raucous set, and handed him a plush robe as a gift. “For coming out this way and showing us new material,” she had said.

It was impossibly fluffy, the texture puffed out and soft like a baby’s hair, and it smelled like cucumbers. He’d have thought he was entering a spa in any other context. Putting it on, he snuggled into it and breathed deep, looking for a spot where he could sit down without jarring his entire body.

Phichit ran up to him and clapped him on the back, reaffirming precisely how sore he could feel his body become now that hormones weren’t flooding his system. “That was a fantastic shoot, Yuuri! Who knew you were a natural at shooting porn. You two looked absolutely _destined_ to be together, riding each other into the sunset,” Phichit joked as he waved a hand over the horizon.

“Ow,” Yuuri whimpered quietly, ignoring Phichit’s rambling.

Phichit retraced his hand. “Oh, sorry. We don’t have to go sightseeing today.”

Yuuri blanched. “I— I forgot about that entirely.”

Phichit looked downright shocked. “You forgot about your dear best friend? Yuuri, you’re so mean!”

“That’s what I said!” Viktor agreed from across the set.

Yuuri shrunk in on himself, defensive. “I’m not trying to be!”

“Hey, hey,” Phichit pushed himself in between Yuuri and his line of sight of Viktor, “it’s alright, Yuuri. Go relax. We’ll pick up, head back to the hotel, and you can sleep for the rest of the day.”

Yuuri voiced his thanks, grateful to see that the end of his day was in sight. The energy was almost entirely drained from him; he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it back up the cliff face.

“Viktor!” Chris yelled out to the world, holding up a crab that didn’t look too pleased to be in its current predicament. “Help me out here! I’ve got dinner for tonight! How does a crab bisque sound?”

Viktor ran for it immediately. Apparently this sounded like a great idea.

“You sure we’re heading to the hotel, not the hospital?” Yuuri groaned, knowing the turn of events he was about to watch unfold.

“I may have spoken too soon,” Phichit bowed his head solemnly, like he was admitting defeat. Then thought better of something and dug out his phone. “At least if I film it they can’t lie about it to the doctors.”

* * *

Viktor scrolled through his social media feed without really looking, until he saw a picture posted by the Californian company of Yuuri and himself discussing something, casually standing near each other in their robes. Their backs were turned, but he could see that they were leaning in toward each other and didn’t have to look at their faces to understand. And yet, there were slivers of bright sunlight highlighting the sides of their cheeks, brightening the smiles Viktor could just barely make out. It hit several chords inside him, major and minor, an arpeggio of longing and hope he knew he shouldn’t have. One part of his heart fluttered at their closeness, remarking on their growth since Yuuri waltzed into his life, the other part was anchored to the ground, a lever cranking it tighter and tighter.

They looked close, sure, but Viktor knew he was so far off of Yuuri’s mark, worlds away from the light Yuuri belonged in. He didn’t want to drag Yuuri into this industry where even Viktor felt restricted— when he really wasn’t, considering his luck. But this part of Yuuri, the part that gleaned satisfaction from his body for the camera, fit so well for this, for the studio, for Viktor. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Regardless, Yuuri was here. Sleeping off his tired muscles in the next room, hopefully, but he was here all the same.

And what a sight his sleeping form was, Viktor’s mind wandered. He had thought it once, earlier in his apartment when Yuuri fell asleep against his chest, that Yuuri truly looked like a sleeping beauty, awaiting a kiss to reawaken his livelihood. He had seen Yuuri asleep in the hotel room the other day, too, in between Georgi’s arm and the door frame. It was the tiniest glimpse, far less than the treasure he had been able to hold for nearly half an hour, but it reaffirmed that what he felt wasn’t the result of sex hormones.

Yuuri simply always looked beautiful, even in sleep.

Viktor wished to text Yuuri, to check up on him, but if he was asleep like Viktor hoped, he didn’t want to disturb Yuuri. He had done that yesterday and didn’t want Yuuri to hate him if he did it again. So he laid back on his hotel bed, hands clasped behind his head, and counted ceiling tiles, thoughts straying every time he counted over ten.

Yakov flipped a page of his book, lying back on his hotel bed next to Viktor’s. He wasn’t actually reading, Viktor was sure of that. He had seen the side eyes and heard the light tap-tap-tap of his fingers against the paper binding. Yakov was waiting, biding his time, to reprimand Viktor for something. Probably to scold him about an angle or pacing, tiny nitpicks that really wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things because people were looking for more Vitya content regardless of the quality. He still had to be on top of his game, and he knew he was, but he also knew the effect that Yuuri had on him. Most likely, Yakov would point that out, too. Viktor steeled his heart.

But he left a sliver open, just wide enough for his brain to sort out everything that happened so that he could anticipate Yakov’s questions. Naturally, he picked what he liked most about a shoot, because that was typically where Yakov would correct him. They had different visions for these sorts of things, and a compromise was generally the most successful way to go about them.

This shoot, however, kept Viktor’s heart racing long afterward. There was a strange intimacy he had never felt in front of a camera before, and he was scared it would be picked up. The intrinsic flow between them was impossible to ignore, Viktor knew that, so it was the hope that it at least looked good on camera. It sure felt good.

Enough. He shut his heart out again, taking a deep breath at the same time as Yakov, who was folding a page and setting the book down.

“How’s your sunburn?” Yakov asked genuinely.

Viktor knew how this went. Yakov cared, sure, but this was just the stepping stone. He went along with it.

“It’s fine, not anywhere as bad as it could have been,” he said, rolling his shoulders and feeling his skin protest underneath the fabric of his shirt. He had chosen something loose and soft, but it still irritated the skin every now and again.

“Good thing Katsuki pointed it out, then,” Yakov poked.

Viktor clenched his fist around his phone, out of sight. His throat began to thicken, but he forced himself to breathe evenly, keeping his face neutral. “Yes, it was very nice of him to look out for me like that.”

“I know what you’re doing, Viktor,” Yakov cut to the chase, voice monotone.

Viktor kept his eyes down, lips thin, tight, unmoving. He didn’t want to answer. The sentence could mean anything. It could be praise for all he knew.

Except he knew better. He and Yakov went too far back for him not to know better.

“You know he won’t stay,” Yakov continued, firing bullet after bullet right where it would kill.

“He might,” Viktor’s fist tightened, knuckles turning white, “others have.”

But Yakov wouldn’t relent. “You also didn’t have crushes on the others. They’re different,” he pointed out as he rotated his body, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands locked on his knees. He was thinking through his words carefully, Viktor noted. “He will go back to the stage, eventually. He’s too young to stay away. This is just one car on his moving train, he’ll pass on when he’s had enough of the view.”

_Crushes_. Viktor wanted to laugh, bitter as the thought was. If only Yakov knew how late he was to board this train.

“I just want him to enjoy himself before that happens,” Viktor answered honestly, with as normal a tone as he could make. “If that’s all that I can offer, that’s fine.”

Yakov heaved a weighted sigh, shaking his head. Viktor knew he reached a decision. He was prepared, but hearing it still stung.

“I guess you’ll just have to find a different way to do that.”

Viktor closed his eyes in mock resignation.

“You’re not filming with him next week.”

* * *

Viktor rubbed at his eyes, sleep sands making his eyes water. One of the many side effects of having drunk enough to be hungover for most of the next day.

The argument had continued long after that, after Viktor had taken a shower to collect his thoughts only to attempt giving them to an unyielding Yakov. It ended in hastily collected shoes, wallet, and key card, it ended with a slammed door, and it ended with hair bristled at the backs of their necks like feral cats. Viktor knew better than to stay in the room at that point and headed to the bar. He returned at some point in the early hours, a time not quite night and not quite morning, and crashed until his alarm told him they had to leave for the airport.

Viktor didn’t sit next to Yuuri on this flight either, which he expected. It was fine considering he didn’t even like himself when he was hungover. Occasionally he would check over his shoulder to look a few rows back at Phichit, whose shoulder Yuuri was using as a pillow. Each time, Phichit would catch his eye and smirk knowingly. Viktor would turn back around at that point, unwilling to admit he looked as obvious as he probably was.

Most of the flight, however, Viktor thought about the words passed between Yakov and himself. Some were said in anger, but he knew a lot of it was out of Yakov’s concern.

But Viktor wasn’t eighteen anymore. He wasn’t new to America, or the porn industry for that matter. He knew the dangers and he knew the consequences.

He was still conflicted about where his own motivation lay. Desiring to see Yuuri on the stage and in his bed were two very different things, and he couldn’t be sure which was propelling him forward. He never anticipated Yuuri Katsuki being the incredibly kind, caring, most down-to-earth human being ever— although he certainly dreamed of that— and the more of that he saw, the more he wanted to keep Yuuri by his side.

Perhaps, with the lines they’ve slowly been traversing, Yuuri would be fine with adding one more to their tightwire act. Just one last jump, a leap of faith, and Yakov might just see what Viktor was trying to make him see. It took him the entire flight to formulate his plan.

So when they were separating and saying goodbyes at the airport until after the weekend when the work week would start anew, Viktor found himself at an opportune moment. He had just said goodbye to Chris, heading back into the airport to make his way to the parking garage on the other side where his car would be waiting. On his way through, he passed the food court and saw Phichit and Yuuri sitting down at a table with trays of greasy fast food. Viktor steadied his breathing and took the dive.

“Hey,” Viktor waved, walking up to the pair, “got room for one more?”

“You haven’t left yet?” Yuuri looked surprised to see him.

Viktor shrugged. “I’m still a little tired to be able to drive, so I’m waiting it out.”

“Pop a squat,” Phichit invited with a mouthful of burger, patting the seat across from him, next to Yuuri. There was a devilish grin on his face that looked comical when it was stuffed with food.

Viktor took his spot and didn’t see Yuuri visibly shrink away from him or tense up, so he took it as a good sign. Still, he kept a little distance. “Feeling better, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded, popping a fry into his mouth. “Still pretty sore, but not bad.”

Viktor didn’t know what to do now. The words he had planned— he really should have written them down on a piece of paper, on his hand, _something_ — must have spilled out of his brain on his way over, because they were nowhere to be found. Yuuri was looking at him with those curious brown eyes, hints of amber glinting in the light as he searched Viktor’s features. They held him in place, tied down with concern. He turned his head to Phichit gave him a look, apparently signaling something, because Phichit excused himself to the bathroom.

Yuuri sat there, tapping his foot. “How’s your sunburn?” he asked, starting safe, which Viktor was glad for.

An easy smile came to his lips. “I think I’ll need some lotion put on it later. Do you think you could help me with that?” Viktor fought the urge to wink like he would around others when he wanted something done. In this situation, he didn’t want to demand anything of Yuuri. It was a hard habit to break.

“Viktor,” Yuuri chided, unfazed except for the flash of amusement across his face.

Viktor sighed in mock defeat. “You’re getting used to me, Yuuri. I can’t have that happening so soon.”

He then turned to face Yuuri completely, open and honest. “I have another question, if you’d be so inclined as to hear me out.”

Yuuri swallowed the food he had been eating and set his burger down, an eyebrow raised. “I’ll bite.”

“Your burger or me?” Viktor let the wink happen. He couldn’t help it. Yuuri walked right into that one.

“It’s going to be a ‘no’ if you keep that up,” Yuuri warned, although Viktor could tell there was no malice behind it. “What is it?”

Viktor dived, letting his body freefall. “Yurio has a performance with his high school’s ballet club tomorrow night.”

Yuuri blinked, nodding thoughtfully. “Oh. He does ballet as well?”

“Yep,” Viktor chirped. Despite his brashness, Yurio was like family to him, and like a family member should be, he was proud of how far Yurio had come. “Happens every season. Usually, Yakov ropes everyone into it, but there’s an extra ticket this time,” he partially lied. He’d learned from Chris before he left that he wouldn’t be attending and Viktor could have the ticket.

It was a perfect rebuttal to Yakov, to his dumb rules and unfair logic. That was, if Yuuri agreed. Viktor’s freefall splashed into the water.

“Would you like to go?” _With me?_ Viktor wanted to say, but bit his tongue at the last second, the waves washing over him and threatening to drown him.

Yuuri looked at Viktor, expression unreadable. The longer that the seconds stretched, the more and more doubt Viktor felt worming its way into his brain. For a brief moment, Viktor wondered if it might have been the case that Yuuri actually _didn’t_ want to return to the stage, even if just to watch. Was his last competitive performance that scarring for him? It almost hurt worse to think about that than it did to think about Yuuri leaving for a new ballet company without telling him.

Yuuri hummed noncommittally, taking a sip of his drink in contemplation. Viktor worried if he had overstepped the boundary by too far a margin. It would have been easier if he knew where Yuuri set them up, but Yuuri seemed to think everyone could read him perfectly. It was a mild frustration at best.

Yuuri’s lips pulled upward in a shy smile, meeting Viktor’s hopeful gaze through his eyelashes. Viktor swore his heart came to a full stop along with the entire world every time Yuuri did this.

“I’ll go,” Yuuri agreed with a nod.

And just like that, Viktor resurfaced from his dive, a grin split wide open now that he could breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ❤
> 
> You can come scream/chat/ask me stuff on my Tumblr [here](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/)!


	14. Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things become a little clearer.
> 
> AKA the only chapter without smut (but is still somehow over 10k).
> 
> (AKA, did Yurio name this chapter?!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a long month since I've updated (I won't go into the details) but there are some things I wanna make sure to tell you before we get to the chapter! I'll keep it as short as possible.
> 
> After the last chapter, FtC reached 30,000 hits, 1000 comments, and now nearly 2000 kudos! I was super excited to see that and decided to celebrate by giving you guys a little extra. 
> 
> I asked people on tumblr to send in a scene from the fic and a character POV they wanted that scene told from. I got 10 prompts in and I've completed 5 so far! You can view the 5 that I've written [here](https://noon30ish.tumblr.com/tagged/FtC-Drabbles), or you can wait until all the prompts are done and I'll start uploading them here on AO3 as a companion fic. _Everything that happens in those prompts are canon to the fic_ , so they're worth a read if you want more info. c:
> 
> Seriously, thank you all for showing this fic more love than I imagined it ever getting, it means a lot.
> 
> There were also two more pieces of fanart (these are NSFW!) made for the fic that you should go to and give all your love!
> 
> [@twiglightdragon](https://twiglightdragon.tumblr.com/) drafted a new porn script and scene (complete with some cleverly lewd puns) that you can find [here](https://twiglightdragon.tumblr.com/post/164271301205/havent-finished-the-little-comic-that-im-working).
> 
> [@ethie-the-aluminium](https://ethie-the-aluminium.tumblr.com/) (aka @etherealalchemist made a new blog just to post this art and I love her for it) recreated a part of the beach scene and it's as precious as it is filthy, which you can find [here](https://ethie-the-aluminium.tumblr.com/post/164735568579/viktor-probably-oh-no-hes-hoootttt-fanart-of#notes).
> 
> Alright go read the chapter now! c:

Yuuri spent the next day and a half wondering exactly why he had said yes to Viktor’s offer. Regardless of the answer he came up with, it didn’t change the fact that he agreed to step near a stage again.

When Phichit heard about Yuuri going somewhere with Viktor— as in, he eavesdropped after coming out of the bathroom at the airport because he had an insatiable need to know about Yuuri’s private life— he didn’t stop talking about it the entire way home. Of course, when he saw that that was making Yuuri more nervous, he reversed his strategy and tried to ramp up Yuuri’s excitement.

Yuuri would have been more apt to enjoy the lead up to the event if Phichit was going as well, but apparently he didn’t get a ticket. Which didn’t make sense, considering Viktor said that Yakov had an extra ticket and ‘roped everyone’ into attending. Either way, Phichit wasn’t going and that left Yuuri to deal with his own demons, his own anxiety, and Viktor. He didn’t have to hazard a guess on which of the three he was the least prepared for.

The buzzing phone roused Yuuri from his thoughts. He picked it up before it could vibrate off the nightstand into the pile of clothes below— not that it would have been in any danger, but he would have never seen the phone again in the midst of the cluster that was his bedroom at the moment. He glanced at the name and felt his heart do that same lurching motion it had back at the hotel after Viktor left. Except, this time, it was because Viktor was entering, not leaving. How strange.

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Good afternoon, Yuuri! \\(^0^)/_  
_The dance showcase starts at 6 tonight, so I’ll stop by around 5? Traffic could be rough_  
_Last night’s show was huge apparently so it should be fun_   
_How are you dressing, Yuuri? I wanna match!_

Yuuri must have missed the first couple messages. Judging by the time stamp, the earliest message had been sent nearly two hours ago. He’d been looking through his clothing for three hours now. Worse than Mari had ever been when she was a teenager.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** ****_  
_ _Afternoon, sorry I was away ^^;_ _  
_ _… is it that formal?_

Viktor, in true Viktor-fashion, answered almost immediately. Yuuri had barely picked up a sock he swore he’d seen and dealt with two seconds ago when Viktor’s reply came in.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Just don’t wear that dreaded jacket from that first day, please_

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _I have a dreaded jacket? And what’d it do to you?_

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _Offended my eyes by being anywhere near your person_  
_It was terrible_  
_I want to burn it_   
_Yuuri, for the love of all things sacred, let me burn it_

Yuuri stared at the influx of messages. Tapping the screen and biting his lip absently, he scanned the room to find the item Viktor was referring to. The only real nice jacket that Yuuri owned was his dark blue suit jacket, the one he wore to professional conferences and interviews. He kept it pressed and even dry-cleaned it occasionally. It still fit him well, despite having gotten it a couple years ago now. But whether or not it was his only jacket, he wasn’t about to hand it over to Viktor to burn it like some sacrilegious effigy.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** ****_  
_ _???_  
_No!_   
_Just wear an equally ugly jacket if you insist on matching_

Yuuri smirked to himself, enjoying the picture that came to mind. Viktor in his jacket, or a similar style at the least. For some reason, he could picture it so well, it was as if he was back in one of those interviews again, answering to a question voiced by him. Focusing on those lips that spoke so softly to him, Yuuri wondered if he could have the same effect, or how anyone could possess this ability to pull anyone into a trance regardless of whatever supposedly hideous jacket they were wearing.

Viktor texted again as Yuuri was able to push aside another pile of clothing he deemed as far too casual.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _I have no such thing. I’m a dignified man of taste._

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _— said the pornstar._

Viktor didn’t answer for a moment, although the dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared more times over than Yuuri cared to count. Trying not to look and make his heart pound in his ears, Yuuri turned back to his bed. There were several pairs of dress pants laid out, shirts in an equal number laid above them, like he had guests that disintegrated. Not that that he would have blamed them.

Viktor caused his phone to vibrate again, admonishing him for thinking such things.

 **_Viktor:_ **  
_That was low Yuuri :c_ _  
Luckily, I know how you can apologize_

Yuuri looked back to wince at his previous text. It was a little heavy-handed. It wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to talk to Viktor, let alone a coworker that had actually been very nice to him up to this point. Reining himself in, Yuuri tapped away.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _How??_

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _If you’re going to act low, you should probably bend over lower to accommodate ;)_

Yuuri’s sigh was heavy. He took it all back.

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _You can forget about picking me up tonight_

And it worked like a charm.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _Yuuri! :(_

 **_Yuuri:_ ** **_  
_ ** _We’re even now_

At some point, half an hour after Yuuri had taken a break from the hellhole that erupted from his dresser and closet, Yuuri checked his phone again to see those last messages. He immediately regretted not checking his phone after tossing all of his ties back into the corner of the closet for the tenth time, still not sure whether it was a tie sort of event. If it was just a showcase for high schoolers, it shouldn’t require anything more than a button down, right?

 **_Viktor:_ ** ****_  
_ _… will you still go?_  
_Can I still pick you up?_   
_Yuuri!!! :(_

_**Yuuri:** **  
** I’ll see you at 5 _

Yuuri decided against asking Viktor for more clarification, at this moment just hoping for a miracle to swoop in and fix his problems. Right now, the closest thing to a miracle was the tea that he was currently nursing in one hand and his phone in the other, swiping between Viktor’s messages and pictures of the poodle that he missed so dearly.

The last messages appeared across the top of his screen over Vicchan’s head.

 **_Viktor:_ ** **_  
_ ** _As you wish, my Yuuri! \\(^0^)/_

Yuuri saw the familiar string of letters and, rather than question it, smiled. It was a pleasant hum at the back of his throat and a warm little weight in his stomach, slightly worrying but nothing he really concerned himself over. He let the smile stay on his face as he finished his tea and went back to the catastrophe that was his bedroom.

As he spent more time sinking into the mud of picking out clothing again, however, the thought wormed its way into his brain: it was a date. The pick up time, the attire, the subject matter— something they both had talked about for hours on end in various conversations— all pointed to this being far more romantic than he intended. The dread settled alongside that warm weight in his stomach and formed what felt more like a bowling ball, so heavy it was that it brought his entire body to a standstill. Yuuri forced himself back to work by believing Viktor was picking everyone else up, too, like a carpooling arrangement so that they could get there faster. Besides, he wasn’t special enough to require being picked up for an event by Viktor Nikiforov.

So insistent on this, Yuuri never noticed Phichit hanging around in the doorway until he spoke up. Although to say that Phichit’s words made him stop in his tracks was quite the opposite. Yuuri hardly heard him, his eyes and hands combing through his clothing choices again. It wasn’t until Phichit laughed and repeated himself that he looked down and remembered he’d stripped down to try stuff on.

“Why does your room look like the aftermath of a tornado?”

Yuuri was fiddling with the buttons on a bright red shirt, eyebrows furrowed and mind disengaged. “I am the tornado,” he mumbled, scrutinizing the shirt and changing his mind, tossing it behind him. Viktor would probably think that one was ugly, too.

The sound of surprise coming from behind Yuuri told him he just tossed the shirt onto his friend. Yuuri turned to see the swath of red cloth draped over Phichit’s head and shoulders.

“I gathered that,” Phichit chuckled, pulling the shirt off and looking at it quizzically. “Did this get torn up in the high speed winds? I don’t think I’ve seen you care so little about clothing before.”

Yuuri sighed and plopped down onto his bed, not even caring to avoid the row of dress pants he still hadn’t moved during the hours he’d been tearing his room apart. “The problem right now is that I care too much,”

“I can tell,” Phichit commented with a quirk of his eyebrow and lip. “It’s very difficult to decide what to wear when you’ll be in a dark performance hall for ninety percent of the time you’re with him.”

Phichit followed Yuuri onto his bed, flopping beside him with a wide smile on his face and a sympathetic arm wrapped around him. “He’s not going to care what you wear Yuuri. He’s seen you naked. He’s honestly going about this dating thing all backwards.”

Yuuri pushed Phichit’s arm off and rolled over, attempting and failing to stop the laugh caught in his throat. “It’s not a date,” Yuuri insisted, although he wasn’t sure if that had been more for his own benefit than Phichit’s. Odds were, his roommate didn’t believe him anyway.

“Okay, going to a performance together, dressing up, and watching something while sitting next to each other in the dark just like any other bros would,” Phichit over-corrected, “not a date.”

Yuuri sat up with a huff. “Exactly.”

Phichit laughed. “What’s the performance for, anyway? I didn’t listen beyond hearing you agreed to let Viktor take you somewhere. The boy’s totally all over you.”

“We’re going to see Yurio’s ballet performance,” Yuuri explained, “or at least that’s what he said. He called it a showcase this morning.”

“Yurio does ballet, too?” Phichit sat up, eyes beginning to dance around the room— or rather, the clothing covering every surface of the room. “Is he good?”

“Viktor said the show was big, so maybe?” Yuuri said as he watched Phichit start organizing his clothes, the gears in his mind turning loud enough from where he was.

“You think he’ll get recognized?” Phichit tossed two shirts toward Yuuri and put the rest back into the dresser. Then he picked up a couple ties and pursed his lips, thumbing the textures. “Do you think you’ll get recognized?”

Yuuri swallowed back the unease. Truth was, it was his biggest worry. It wasn’t just his ego talking— he didn’t have much of one to begin with— he knew there was a possibility someone might recognize him. Especially at a dance showcase, where who knows how many companies and schools might be watching and recruiting. Who may have recruited him at some time in the past. Who might still try and do so if they saw him. So much for leaving that world behind.

Of course, he had a bigger worry if he stuck out like a peacock in a sea of pigeons wearing a nice suit amongst high schoolers’ families wearing passable button-downs and jeans.

“If I don’t pick the right outfit,” Yuuri shook out the choices Phichit gave him and paused, “someone will definitely point me out.”

Phichit made a gesture for Yuuri to try on the outfit, to which Yuuri complied. Having been at this for longer than necessary, he would take any help he could get. When he finished buttoning the shirt and looked to Phichit with a shrug, Phichit huffed with a knowing smile and walked over to fix and smooth out the fabric.

“Lemme see what I can do,” Phichit winked.

* * *

The clock struck five.

… Fifteen minutes ago.

And just now was there a knock at the door.

“He’s late,” Phichit tsked disapprovingly. They were standing around in the kitchen, Phichit taking yet another cookie away from Yuuri’s hands. _Don’t get the suit dirty_ or _you should still be watching your figure_ or whatever the excuse was each time didn’t seem to get through to Yuuri. The concern was still about whether or not what he was wearing really would work, or whether Viktor was wearing something similar, or if this was, in fact, a date, because Yuuri couldn’t shake the nerves.

“Good,” Yuuri muttered, smoothing his hand down over his tie, “I’m not ready.” His fingers snared around the knot to loosen it and tighten again, righting it underneath his collar. Nothing he did seemed to fix it, only making his hands clammier and the space around his throat too tight to breathe.

“You look great,” Phichit complimented with a wave of his hand that ended pointing back at himself, “thanks to me, of course.”

“Sure,” Yuuri pushed off of the counter he’d been leaning against and headed over to the door, rolling his eyes and bowing mockingly back toward Phichit, “thank you, Fairy Godperson.”

“Bippity-boppity-boo,” Phichit swished an imaginary wand in the air as the knocks on the door continued. “We’re coming!”

Yuuri wished Phichit wouldn’t come to the door to him like some overly excited parent, but there was nothing he could really do. He owed Phichit something for having him take over all of the prep work. Yuuri took a deep breath and felt the cool metal on his palm as he turned the knob and opened the door to reveal—

The world’s hottest man alive. Yuuri wished in that moment he knew the fire department’s number.

Viktor stood there, out of place in the best way possible. In that, this man could be in a room filled with glamorous people and he would still outshine all of them. He could outshine the sun and the moon and Yuuri felt like a mere pebble by comparison. The suit jacket cut the shape of his body like a Greek god and the dark grey fabric contrasted nicely with his pale skin and black button-up underneath. Around his throat, knotted below his prominent adam’s apple, a deep purple tie begged to be pulled tight. Preferably in Yuuri’s direction. Everything about him screamed power and sensuality and all of the things Yuuri knew he wasn’t.

At least they sort of matched.

Yuuri was also in a black button-up on, although it wasn’t nearly as fine-pressed or rich. It did hug his skin a little too tight because he hadn’t danced seriously in months, but that was his only claim to looking moderately put-together. They had even left Yuuri’s hair un-gelled, much to Phichit’s chagrin. Phichit did, however, pick out the midnight blue tie that Yuuri had been wringing and wrinkling just moments earlier. Yuuri absently smoothed it down, hoping he didn’t appear disheveled.

Viktor’s face matched the sharpness of his outfit, but only for a brief moment. There was a thin smirk on his lips and his eyes gleamed mischievously, calculating and cold as ice. But as ice would always melt in the presence of the sun, Viktor’s expression softened all around. His smirk remained, but it was more of a lopsided smile now with the pout of his pink lower lip and the laugh lines creasing at the corners. Those dangerous eyes softened until they were full of a warmth that responded completely and utterly to Yuuri’s light. They reflected Yuuri’s figure, outlining without judging and warming without heating up, sweet and far unlike the front he had put on just moments before.

Viktor’s shoulders relaxed next, his posture easing comfortably. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed that Viktor had been tense. He couldn’t puzzle together why Viktor could be nervous. Viktor had been to the apartment before.

Of course, Yuuri’s mind supplied the easy conclusion: it was a date.

Which, even if it were, would be a ridiculous notion. There was no way, with how Viktor looked, that he would ever be nervous for dates. He was probably going on dates a lot back when he had more free time. Yuuri knew he took up a lot of that free time now, and the guilt still gnawed at the edges of his conscious mind.

But Viktor’s smirk was still there, even as his voice of liquid amber seeped into the moment. “Hi.”

Before Yuuri could respond, Phichit answered instead. “Hi, Viktor. Stop drooling, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s fingers shot up toward his face, checked the corners of his lips for any sign of said drooling but found none. If there had only been a tiny bit of color on his cheeks before, it was certainly showing now.

Viktor’s smirk deepened, a small chuckle coming from past his lips. “At least the jacket’s gone.”

“Huh?” Yuuri’s brows knit together. “You said not to wear the jacket. Besides, I see you’re wearing one anyway.”

Viktor shrugged as he walked into the apartment, Phichit snapping pictures in the background. Yuuri attempted halfheartedly to stop him, but to no avail. Viktor pulled at his lapel. “You told me to dress equally ugly. I didn’t have ugly, so I guessed.”

Phichit’s camera sounds stopped, his jaw slack. “You guessed by dressing in Armani?”

Viktor opened his mouth to interject, but apparently couldn’t argue. Yuuri definitely didn’t want him to _change_ , if that was any indication of what he thought about Viktor’s choice of clothing.

That was, of course, if Yuuri had a say in taking Viktor out of them.

“It’s from last year’s AVN Awards,” Viktor finally defended himself, sounding a little hurt, “I’ll take it off before we get in the building.” As if he would rather be caught dead than wearing _last year’s_ Armani signature.

Yuuri, in all his years, never once thought about buying himself Armani, although arguably he could have many times over early on. Ballet was expensive, to a point, but Yuuri had surpassed that point once.

Yuuri wondered if that was a point never to be passed again.

“Gee, guys,” Phichit spoke up, and both Viktor and Yuuri turned to him in unison, now standing side by side. Phichit captured a quick photo, talking over it in the hopes that neither would notice (Yuuri noticed). “This definitely looks like a date to me.”

“Oh it’s—”

“Not a date!” Yuuri finished, interrupting whatever it was Viktor was going to say. “Not a date. Most of the company is going with us as well to support Yurio.”

Phichit nodded in mock understanding, clearly not buying it. “You guys are dressed up and going together. I’m calling it a date—”

Yuuri put his face in his hands. “It’s not a date, Phichit—”

“— and I need to have a word with you,” Phichit got in between Yuuri and Viktor and had a finger prodding Viktor’s chest, “lil mister.”

“Lil?”

“Phichit, we are both taller than you,” Yuuri pointed out, flustered and a little bit frustrated that his friend had to insist on what wasn’t true.

Viktor’s posture stiffened. “I swear I’ll be good and have him home by eleven,” he said with sincerity.

Yuuri gaped. “Wha—”

“Make it ten,” Phichit haggled.

“Wait—”

Viktor frowned. “It ends at ten.”

Phichit pursed his lips, backing off another inch. “Fair. Make it ten-thirty and he must be in one piece,” he said, putting an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “No joy riding.”

At that, Viktor grinned smugly. “Done.”

“Alright,” Phichit said like he’d just struck a deal with the president of a Fortune 500 company, offering a hand for Viktor to shake, which was taken dutifully.

Yuuri shook his head in bewilderment. This was something he was actually watching unfold. “I can’t believe you two.”

“Have fun!” Phichit playfully kissed Yuuri’s cheek, hardly a peck, but Yuuri swore he saw a different look thrown in Viktor’s direction. But when he checked, Viktor’s face was carefully blank.

Viktor held the door open for Yuuri and walked behind as they made their way out of the building. Yuuri could feel those eyes on him, and while it was raising the hairs on his neck, he wouldn’t want it any other way. It felt similar to how they were at the hotel, with Yuuri asking Viktor to watch and Viktor obeying so readily. Although this situation wasn’t sexual by any means, the feeling of control was just underneath. His fingertips curled at his pant legs and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

Enjoyment could be a thing within his grasp tonight. It left this light-hearted bubble near to bursting in his chest. Yuuri glanced back over his shoulder, eyeing Viktor behind him, and felt his grin split wider. Viktor’s eyes had been low, peeking, but as Yuuri’s head moved, his eyes snapped back up with a sheepish smile on his lips. Yuuri had to face forward again to control the pink blooming on his cheeks and to make sure he didn’t walk right into the building’s front door, which was a near thing.

The air outside bit at his cheeks. The snap of cold wind swirled around them as they stepped out onto the sidewalk and Yuuri instinctively folded his hands into his chest, wishing he’d thought to bring a jacket. When his eyes adjusted to the darker evening light and the harsh streetlamps, he saw a couple vehicles parked along the street.

One of which was a bright pink muscle car of sorts.

Yuuri stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. “So, where’s your car?” he asked, meanwhile praying that Viktor wouldn’t—

“This is my car,” Viktor stated, gesturing to the exact car Yuuri thought had been made by procuring multitudes of poached flamingos. In Viktor’s hand were equally gaudy keys.

Yuuri blinked once, twice. “Is… is that really your car?”

“Yuuri, you wound me,” Viktor chuckled, wrapping a welcoming arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, partially sheltering him from the wind. “You don’t like it?”

Yuuri craned his neck to look back up at Viktor, whose lips were pouting and eyes were shining again, awaiting appraisal.

“It…” Yuuri’s glance flitted from Viktor to the pink calamity and back to Viktor, “it fits you.”

Viktor gave him a dubious look. “Why do I feel like that’s another jab at my line of work?”

“I-It’s not!” Yuuri insisted, backtracking. “It’s just that it’s very… uh well you’re… um—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor hushed him with a hand on his lower back, the gentle pressure pushing him to walk on toward the car, “I’m joking.”

Viktor led Yuuri like that, hand on waist, to the passenger side of the car, only finally letting go to open the door for him. Yuuri smiled in thanks and sat in the seat, clapping the snow off his shoes and swiveling them inside before Viktor shut the door.

It was then that Yuuri realized no one else was in the car. No one else was riding with them. Not a soul, not even under the floor covers that matched the flamboyant exterior and— as Yuuri looked when Viktor got in— the steering wheel. The upholstery was white, and unfortunately, that only made it easier to point out that they were alone in this car together. Maybe the carpooling theory was wrong.

Well, it might not be. Yuuri sucked in a breath as Viktor buckled and turned on the engine in one fluid, practiced motion. He looked at Yuuri and smiled, about to say something when Yuuri spoke first.

“Are the others already there?”

Derailed, Viktor checked the time on the dash, then his phone. He pursed his lips. “Probably have been for a little while. I wasn’t necessarily anticipating being interrogated by your roommate.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes as Viktor rolled onto the street and set off to wherever they were heading— Yuuri wasn’t sure because he never thought to ask.

“He means well,” he attempted to reassure. Phichit’s behavior around Viktor wasn’t antagonistic, per se, but the playfulness sometimes rubbed Yuuri the wrong way as well.

Viktor hummed noncommittally. It was quiet in the car for a bit. As soon as they made it onto the interstate, Viktor sped up. “He thinks I’ll hurt you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Yuuri answered a little too quickly. Viktor shouldn’t have to worry about Phichit. Then again, Yuuri remembered that Viktor thought he and Phichit were dating. So really, this was probably a normal reaction.

Viktor risked turning his head to look at Yuuri briefly, a quick once-over, assessing. “I won’t, you know,” he said seriously.

“I know you won’t,” Yuuri found himself saying truthfully. He believed it, believed the words that fell from those unjustly beautiful lips. “I trust you.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth that Yuuri could see turned upward in a heartbeat. “And I you.”

Yuuri returned the smile, then broke his gaze. He’d been staring at Viktor the entire time. Not doing anything in particular, just admiring the moving shadows of the streetlights that beamed through the curtain of his styled silver hair. Shadows occasionally shifted, binding Viktor to the new, surreal reality that was sitting in this car, going everywhere and nowhere in a sort of torturous limbo. The kind of eternity that belonged in framed pictures.

The heat rising inside the car had to have come from the vents, Yuuri tried to reason, because his cheeks and shoulders and fingers were tingling the same way they would in front of a campfire in the middle of a winter night. And it was this, along with every frustrating insecurity he’d had since at the airport, and perhaps some surge of confidence that came from dressing smart, that pushed Yuuri to lay the cards on the table and just _ask_.

“Is this a date?”

Viktor was still for a moment, and Yuuri thought to ask again when Viktor switched driving arms, his left wrist now draped over the steering wheel and his right resting lazily atop the shift stick. He pulled his lips inward before puffing out a soft breath, hardly heard over the engine.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” Viktor shrugged with an air of nonchalance.

That answer, however, wouldn’t do for Yuuri. It took way too long for Viktor to answer for that to be the intention. “But did you mean for it to be a date?”

The car came to a stop, causing Yuuri to finally take notice of their surroundings. They were at a stoplight at a busy intersection, providing Viktor plenty of time to come up with a better answer.

Viktor took the opportunity to look at Yuuri with both eyes, the side of his face outlined in red. “I am going to support Yuratchka,” he started, tone meticulously flat. “I thought, with you knowing ballet as well as you do, that you would like to support him too. We’re going for him. It doesn’t have to be a date,” Viktor cut himself off, although not out of discontent. He sounded more subdued, words chosen with utmost care, and his gaze drew back to the road when the light turned green.

Yuuri let the words sink in, for once glad that Viktor didn’t ask for it to be a date, nor ask if Yuuri wanted it to be a date. He’d asked for a simple coffee date before and Yuuri had said no. It was when Viktor didn’t ask that things got interesting. For once, however, Yuuri was finding that he might not mind, had the circumstances been different.

Because even Yuuri noticed the little things that Viktor had been doing recently. He noticed Viktor’s words were softer, and of course he had always known Viktor was attractive. Yuuri knew the pull was there, but he had always assumed it was purely physical. Now, he saw things in a different light, similar to the streetlight’s contrast that cast their truths across the canvas of their bodies, clothed but suddenly so bare. Even if they didn’t call it a date, it would still be one in all but name.

But just because they went on something akin to a date did not mean they were dating. That was a thin line, a tiny barrier already stretched thin, but he held to it regardless. There were a litany of reasons that they couldn’t date, work being the largest barrier.

The rules were in place for a reason, and although Yuuri didn’t understand the formation of them, he felt that he did understand the consequences. Dating Viktor would only create a conflict of interest. It would create unneeded jealousy and one way or the other, Yakov would lose business.

Because Yuuri wasn’t sure he could bear the thought of Viktor sleeping with others before or after sleeping with him, regardless of it being Viktor’s job. And Yuuri couldn’t ask Viktor to simply stop being a pornstar if they did start dating (provided Yakov ever approved of that, which Yuuri doubted entirely). The man had been in the industry going on ten years now. No matter what industry someone worked in, ten years was a lot for their age. It must have been Viktor’s entire working life, and it brought up questions Yuuri wasn’t sure he was close to Viktor enough to ask.

Hanging over Yuuri, there was also the fact that he didn’t have the time to date, not in the US. He had made the decision to go home and he was sticking to it. He was sorely homesick. He knew he’d have to give Yakov the two week notice, but there was still time for that. Giving notice was never something he liked doing, so as long as he still had some time to mentally prepare himself for the awkward conversation, the better. Once home, though, the rules wouldn’t be in place; not that Yuuri thought a long-distance anything was doable when the partner was a pornstar, but it was something.

Of course, this was all banking on the idea that Viktor even wanted to date Yuuri. Perhaps Viktor had the same reservations. Or maybe Viktor just wanted whatever was between them to be a sort of fling. A quick flame to burn the extraneous desires left unfulfilled by the porn industry, to purge his senses and get back into his job with more fervor than before.

Either way, the thought that Yuuri wanted this nameless pull to be anything more terrified him. In his brief time of dating, dancing had always taken precedent. Never had these feelings manifested, let alone build to the point that Yuuri felt his heart pounding for all sorts of reasons.

When the car came to a sudden stop, Yuuri’s heart went from racing to flatlining in an instant.

“—while to find parking, but we’re not too far away,” Viktor was finishing explaining something, which became more apparent when Yuuri realized they had stopped.

The car was parked among other cars, yet conspicuously pink and out of place. The engine had been cut out long ago and the air in the car was becoming stale. They had been in here for a little while and Viktor never said otherwise.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice floated above the silence, wrapping around Yuuri’s head and forcing him to look over. He noticed then that Viktor’s hand was over his own, fingers and thumb rubbing over his knuckles lightly. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri muttered, “yeah. Sorry. I guess it’s just been awhile since I’ve been near the stage.”

Not a complete lie, nor a lie at all.

“Well,” Viktor patted his hand to accentuate his point, “no one will make you go on it, not tonight.”

 _I don’t want to be back on it ever_ , Yuuri thought, although it left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wouldn’t go away when he swallowed, so he tried to get the words out. “You can’t be sure of that.”

Viktor licked his lips and smiled, his teeth pulling at his lower lip with a soft laugh. “I’ll tell them I’m your bodyguard. No one will be able to touch you then.”

Yuuri stifled a chuckle and shook his head. “I hope you realize that you’re not getting paid for that position, Mr. Last-Year’s-Armani.”

If it were possible (not that Yuuri would tell Viktor anyway), Viktor’s laugh lines deepened, the joy on his face so blatantly apparent that Yuuri wondered when the last time was that Viktor enjoyed himself this much. Yuuri could probably ask the same thing of himself. Despite all the insecurities, the unanswered questions, Yuuri enjoyed every moment.

He could tell that Viktor did, too.

“Protecting you will be payment enough, Mr. Katsuki,” Viktor joked lightly as he finally stepped out of the car and walked around to Yuuri’s side, opening the door with an over-exaggerated flourish. Yuuri was still processing the statement when Viktor took his hand and led them down the parking lot in a light jog with a cheerful grin on his face. “We’ve gotta get going, though, or we’ll be a little late.”

“What?”

* * *

“Hi Yakov!” Viktor whispered excitedly as they scooted into the middle row, awkwardly sidestepping people’s laps and failing not to brush against them.

Yuuri elbowed Viktor immediately, which earned him an apologetic shrug in reply. So what, they were approximately fifteen minutes late, no big deal. Or at least, that was how Viktor saw it. The usher hadn’t even bothered to check their tickets once they saw the pair walk in the door. One look at Yuuri and the usher had them through the door without another word. That really should have been Yuuri’s first clue as to how the night was to go down.

Yakov looked up from his programme a couple filled seats over with that characteristic scowl on his face. The expression deepened when he saw Yuuri.

“Sorry, Yakov!” Yuuri whispered hastily, shrinking into his seat afterward when Yakov didn’t respond with anything but a stare.

The lights went down and an announcer began introducing the show and lighting up emergency exits accordingly. Yuuri sighed, glad that their tardiness wasn’t obvious.

“See? Only a little late,” Viktor leaned over and whispered, not taking his eyes off the stage.

Yuuri rolled his eyes in vain. “You’re a terrible escort,” he whispered back, sucking in a quick breath when he realized the connotation of the word.

Viktor tilted his head, as if to give Yuuri’s point some validity. “Like most escorts, however,” Viktor snuck a wink toward him, “I guarantee more fun after the date.”

Yuuri allowed himself to glare at Viktor briefly before the music started. Settling into his seat, he kept his arms crossed in an effort to warm up and focus on the show. The word ‘date’ distracted him, the letters swimming around in his head before something obnoxious was shouted from backstage to start the first number.

If the first dancer on stage was going to give any indication about the rest of the showcase, Yuuri wanted to hide his face in embarrassment while also peeking through the spaces between his fingers. His mental argument over anything about Viktor was put to a halt, for better or for worse.

The hip hop club from the school was up first, judging by the driving beat and lyrics said too quickly for Yuuri to catch. It was the kind of music Yuuri remembered at clubs or larger university parties that Phichit had dragged him to in the past. Not awful, perfect for a good time, but not something Yuuri could dance to without a good shot (or two) of strong liquor. There were singles and pairs and ensembles, all varying in intensity, but there was one constant: the main dancer. He was good, by all objective measures, but his mind and body seemed to ignore the others around him for the spotlight; high on the performance. Regardless, Yuuri’s foot had been tapping along and his fingers itched to move.

Viktor’s knee bumped into his, and that was when Yuuri realized his whole leg had been bouncing, too. Yuuri locked his muscles in place and was glad the area was dark enough to hide his blush.

“Entertained by the King?” Viktor chuckled under his breath.

Yuuri spared a glance in his direction. “The who?”

“Yurio complains about him all the time. Has a huge ego, apparently,” Viktor explained, pointing toward the kid front-and-center-and-knew-it.

Yuuri hummed, nodding. “I see that. I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked anyone over yet. He’s not bad, though.”

“Don’t let Yurio hear that,” Viktor warned before settling back into his seat.

“Duly noted,” Yuuri mumbled, eyes already gluing themselves back to the stage.

Once the hip hop club was done, there was a loosely-defined contemporary programme, with anything and everything from upbeat jazz to brooding electronica, tap dancing all the way to interpretive and what bordered ballet.

Then there was a smaller kid, one that Yuuri was sure wasn’t a high schooler at all, that chose a wordless, jazzy single and paired it with what he presumed to be ballet choreography in origin. It was a new take, refreshing, something Yuuri felt vaguely proud of. It was young talent like this that had Yuuri nearly content with taking an early, quiet retirement. Nearly. He still found himself correcting the kid’s movements in his mind, admiring certain angles, praising the tempo, and critiquing certain dynamics in the flow.

It was with the finishing pose, however, that he recognized the choreography.

It was his own, from a piece he had worked on solo a couple years ago.

Yuuri turned to the person sitting next to him and asked to see the programme for a moment. They graciously pointed to where they were and, sure enough, underneath the title of the piece, listed as the original choreographer, was Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri thanked them and stared straight ahead, mind now a whirlwind. This kid was a fan of his, clearly, and enough of one to take his choreography and turn it into _that_. Yuuri knew he should be flattered, and he was, but it meant his presence here was just that much more at stake.

Viktor must have noticed the change in atmosphere, because his arm was suddenly around Yuuri’s shoulders. The move was casual, appearing hardly practiced, and the weight was actually welcomed. Viktor tilted and spoke low in his ear, breath tickling his hair. “You mean a lot to people, you know,” their foreheads touched briefly in the darkness between numbers, “they love you.”

And while it was said without any harmful intention, Yuuri still felt like he was being rubbed the wrong way. They loved the old him, the Yuuri that had been on the stage months ago, not the him that hid amongst the crowd.

Before he could shrink further, however, Viktor shook him lightly. “There’s Yurio’s crush— sorry, ‘friend.’ I’ve met him a couple times picking up Yurio from the school’s studio. Seems like a nice kid.”

Yuuri didn’t have to ask twice to figure out who it was. The kid must be nearing the end of high school, judging by his more mature appearance. He wasn’t the only one on stage, but he was the one that stood out in a white tee and dance spandex. The other dancers surrounding him were all in dark gray and danced in unison against his flow.

This piece was darker than the others, the synthetic bass running low between the haunting vocals. His dance was out of step from the rest, artfully so. He weaved in between the sea of dancers, against the current, until everything dropped. Then they were against him, flooding him out and pushing him down, playing and toying with him. There were traces of ballet in his figure, but his build was stronger, more angular. Classical ballet would hardly have a place for him, but here, he could use it as he saw fit.

It was well executed through and through, and Yuuri found himself sitting so far forward that Viktor’s arm fell to his lower back. Viktor, for his part, seemed not to mind.

Then the curtains drew and the lowlights were gradually lifted, illuminating the performance hall. The silence was cut by the intercom, announcing a brief intermission. Yuuri had enough wits about him to sit back up and pick at his clothing that had begun to stick to him in the stuffy hall.

Viktor’s thumb rubbed circles into Yuuri’s lower back before Viktor retracted his arm. “What do you think so far?”

Yuuri turned to him, a first since the showcase started, and felt his face flush. “Y-Yeah. Uh.”

“Yeah?” Viktor raised an eyebrow, suppressing a giggle. “I thought it was pretty ‘yeah,’ myself. Well, the first guy maybe more of a ‘yeh,’” Viktor crinkled his nose like he smelled something sour, “but, I mean, nothing particularly awful.”

“Stop,” Yuuri giggled back, looking away before his blush could deepen more visibly. “I really like it. Thank you for taking me tonight.”

“Ah, the night’s not far enough along for you to be thanking me,” Viktor winked, which ended with Yuuri’s face in his hands once again.

“Vitya,” Yakov’s voice stalled both of them. Yuuri looked up to see Yakov crooking a finger with a pointed look at Viktor. Viktor’s face closed off as he stood, leaving his jacket in his seat as he made his way past the other people in the row. As he brushed past Yuuri, however, his fingers lingered over the back of Yuuri’s hand on the seat rest; a promise that he would return.

It was enough to break the illusion for Yuuri, unfortunately, and he kept his head low to avoid seeing other faces. The reality of his being found out was now much more likely. He fished his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through whatever app he could open up first, eyes glazing over the text.

The person that had been sitting next to him had left, leaving their program open near him. He snuck a glance there too, wondering when this would be over. He saw Yurio’s name pop up twice out of the four ballet pieces, one a pas de deux with someone named Otabek and the other a solo. Curious, Yuuri tried to look at the selection when the person took their seat again.

It was a few minutes before Viktor returned, face carefully neutral as he sat back down. Their eyes met and Viktor’s features immediately brightened, hiding whatever it was Yakov had wanted to talk to him about. Yuuri didn’t care to know. The less stress he had to deal with tonight, the better.

Yuuri berated himself. He was supposed to be having fun tonight. As far as he could tell, he’d been allowing himself to overthink yet again. Attempting to brush it off, he shouldered Viktor lightly. “Hey, no popcorn?”

Viktor shook his head with a wide smile. “They ran out.”

At that, Yuuri eased back into his seat. They talked for a minute about the pieces they liked, reminding themselves of things they used to do, mistakes they used to make when they tried similar moves. Their arms made gestures when their words failed and often had to apologize for nearly smacking someone.

At the most recent incident, Yuuri shrunk away, bumping directly into Viktor’s chest. Unless Yuuri was mistaken, Viktor had tried and failed to suppress his giggle and snorted. Yuuri whipped around to catch him in the act, but Viktor was suddenly thin-lipped. There was a slight quiver the longer that Yuuri stared, and soon he was actively trying to get Viktor to break.

Yuuri was about to tickle Viktor— any onlookers be damned— when Viktor’s phone went off. Viktor’s intent focus was broken for a split second, enough to check the screen and frown, and he held up a finger in minute apology. He didn’t move away, however, so Yuuri leaned forward with his chin in his palm and an eyebrow quirked, exaggeratingly judging Viktor.

“Hey, Chris,” Viktor chirped, “what’s up?”

Viktor made a face at Yuuri, which Yuuri replied with his tongue out. If Viktor wasn’t going to turn away to talk to someone on the phone, Yuuri didn’t have to pretend like he wasn’t listening.

“Oh yeah, he’s pissed,” Viktor answered, stressing the last syllable. “You’ll owe him.”

Chris said something that made Viktor laugh, but it was a more constrained laugh than the one Yuuri had been hearing throughout the night. Slowly, Viktor’s face paled again.

“That’s why you— Chris,” Viktor scolded, “really?”

Yuuri, not really able to hear Chris over the general noise of the audience, furrowed his brows. But whenever he looked at Viktor questioningly, Viktor’s eyes averted. If Yuuri wasn’t mistaken, as the lights began to dim, Viktor’s cheeks grew pink. Yuuri could have sworn he heard Phichit yelling at him in the distance and turned around to scan the audience for sign of his friend eavesdropping on their evening with his phone out.

“That’sniceChrisgottago,” Viktor rushed, Yuuri’s attention snapping back to him, and ended the phone call and put it deep in his pocket like the sight of it offended him.

The announcer began to talk, but Yuuri wasn’t finished. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Viktor said quickly, “let’s support Yurio, shall we?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri whined.

“Yurio,” Viktor stated in reply, refusing to budge.

The stage is quiet for a moment, laden with new props so that it isn’t quite as bare. Yuuri squinted, despite wearing his glasses, trying to figure out where he recognized the layout from. Nothing was specific enough to ring a bell.

That was, until the music started.

Yuuri’s heartbeat was a rollercoaster, incrementally speeding up as the first person who came out wasn’t Yurio, but Otabek. It was the same kid Yuuri recognized from the contemporary piece. So this was Yurio’s friend. He would have taken note on how his form was stiffer than a danseur’s should be, or on how his spins were slower considering the pace of the music, but his eyes were elsewhere. Yurio _was not_ — was he?

The music picked up as Yurio came onto the stage, wearing a modified version of the _Swan Lake’s_ princess costume, the skirt now a short series of frills around his waist, but nonetheless feminine. It fit well, and Yurio already seemed in tune with the role.

At first, Yuuri could believe that they were doing a variation of this pas de deux, one less intense. But right out the gate Yurio began his fouettes and Yuuri’s jaw couldn’t have stopped dropping once it hit the floor. Not only was Yurio doing the full pas de deux’s choreography— notorious throughout the ballet community— but he was also doing it in the classical ballerina style: en pointe.

Men did not usually dance en pointe. It took years of training to reach that point for women, longer so for men. And Yurio was only, what, fifteen? Yuuri hadn’t even earned his point shoes until he’d made it to the US at eighteen. There was a chill running down Yuuri’s spine, whether out of fear or exhilaration, he couldn’t be sure.

Thirty-two fouettes. The part called for thirty-two fouettes. Insane for even the most veteran of ballerinas. Yurio was still going, possibly into the twenties. Yuuri lost count somewhere in the middle, the rotations ineffably stable and graceful for someone of Yurio’s age en pointe.

The entire crowd was applauding after Yurio finished the fouettes, the smallest hint of a scowl on his face before it disappeared, and Yuuri clapped along in a daze.

Viktor, at the tail end of the applause, put pressure on Yuuri’s shoulder to make him sit down. Startled, Yuuri realized he’d been halfway to standing up in his amazement.

For a moment, Yuuri couldn’t think of anything to say. “Shit…”

Yuuri felt more than heard Viktor’s chest bubble with quiet laughter. “This was his first year en pointe.”

Yuuri couldn’t have guessed. “I didn’t even go en pointe that young.”

Viktor shrugged. “You definitely did it better.”

At that, Yuuri gave pause. He hadn’t done a _Swan Lake_ role en pointe since he was nineteen, and even then he hadn’t been capable of doing the full thirty-two fouettes. Thirty, but still not enough. It still gave rise to the question of whether or not Viktor knew that, or if he was just attempting to boost Yuuri’s ego, which was now sorely bruised.

And yet, Yuuri felt like he was being challenged. His competitive side itched to retaliate.

The piece went beautifully, the pair being a nice balance for each other. There was even a balance in ability between the two extremes— although that wasn’t to say that Otabek was terrible, not at all. Yurio was just so far out of his age range here that Yuuri had a feeling Yurio had something to prove.

Yuuri leaned over to Viktor’s ear this time. “He’s aiming for the Grand Prix, isn’t he? The YAGP?”

Viktor nodded with a hum. “I always thought about entering that, too. I’m glad he’ll get the chance. How do you think he’ll do?”

“Well,” Yuuri shook his head, “not terribly, that’s for sure.”

There were a couple other performances, but Yuuri was still sitting back and taking in all of the information. His entire being was alight with a fire and excitement shot through his veins like lightning, like he could feel himself back on that stage again. It was surreal.

It was something he missed.

That was only emphasized by the last piece of the night, Yurio’s solo to a piano concerto. It was also high intensity and heart-pounding and excruciatingly difficult and Yuuri had the stupidest smile on his face as he watched with rapt attention. It wasn’t perfectly executed— Yuuri suspected that Yurio had begun to tire early on— but the story and movements were all so vibrant and intricate and Yuuri found his shoulders swaying in time no matter how many times he consciously stopped it. Even if Yuuri were given the whole stage, though, he doubted he was in the physical condition to replicate any of this.

And that thought hurt, hitting a place too close to home. The idea that he might be past his prime without having fully reached it to begin with irked him, rubbed salt in his wounds. Yuuri _wanted_ to be able to do all of that again, wanted to be back in his ballet studio _right that second_.

Then the final curtain was drawn over Yurio’s finishing pose, his body panting with exertion.

Yuuri was, for all loss of any significant words, impressed. Beyond impressed. Insanely impressed.

Incredibly moved, motivated.

_Motivated._

Yuuri clapped mechanically with everyone else, barely registering that he was doing it. He was still staring at the stage where Yurio had been standing.

The performance wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but the potential that lay dormant just beneath the surface was flooding the space with an atmosphere so thick Yuuri couldn’t find the air to breathe. It was how he used to feel after his own performances. It was a rush, a high, and Yuuri could feel the addiction coursing through his veins again.

“That was…” Yuuri drew out, still not altogether present, “he’s doing en pointe? At fifteen? And those fouettes? How…?”

Viktor was already standing, his jacket folded in his arms. “Is that all you’ve been thinking about for the past hour?”

Yuuri cleared his throat and stood up as well, smiling weakly. Something about that must have been amusing, because Viktor was doing that thing that made his eyes and nose crinkle adorably. “Should we go and greet him?”

Viktor nodded down the aisle. “He’s already on his way up. Seems like he brought Otabek, too.”

Yuuri gave Viktor a puzzled look before following his eyes down the moving crowd to find a rare Yurio beaming for the camera, and a subtly smiling Otabek behind him. There were several people with notepads asking him questions, some of which he stopped for and others he seemed to care less about. It was apparent he was still riding that high that all dancers got at some point.

Yurio was most of the way through the crowds when his eyes caught Yuuri’s, alongside Viktor’s. His demeanor changed, eyes darkening in verdant disgust. He hardly slowed down once they were within hearing distance of each other.

“Oi, Viktor,” Yurio paused, glaring between them, “what’s the pig doing here?”

“Yurio,” Viktor admonished lightly, “that’s not nice. You’ve admired—”

“C’mon, Otabek,” Yurio cut Viktor off, looking back toward his friend who shared an indifferent look. As they continued to walk, Otabek nodded curtly to each, pausing at Yuuri with increasing curiosity. That was the first sign that Yuuri should have taken.

Yuuri couldn’t take Yurio’s blunt behavior to heart. Yurio had always been a little prickly toward him, but perhaps earnest congratulations would begin a sort of mending process.

“I thought your performance was fantastic, Yurio. Really, I—”

At the praise, Yurio whipped around, an action which alerted a number of other people with notepads and one or two with cameras; the next sign that Yuuri should have taken. Yurio marched back into Yuuri’s space, still a bit shorter but now twice as intimidating with that finger digging into Yuuri’s chest.

“How dare you show your face near a stage again, you slimy coward,” he spat, voice low in warning, but not low enough that others wouldn’t have heard. Then he was gone—

— to be replaced by reporters that had been following him and watched the entire exchange. There was silence for a moment before the first brave person stepped closer to Yuuri. “A-Are you Yuuri Katsuki? _The_ Yuuri Katsuki?”

That warmth that had spread throughout Yuuri’s body that evening was hot now, the sweat collecting at his collar. He pulled at it absently. He could deal with this, probably. “I-I am, uh—”

“The Yuuri Katsuki is here?” Another reporter perked up down the aisle, ears like a hound's.

The reporters that had huddled around the previous exchange now held out their microphones and cameras and the general noise of the theater increased exponentially.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” one started, “what are you doing here at a high school dance showcase?”

“N-No comment,” Yuuri clammed up, the dread panging deep in his gut. This was the one thing he didn’t want to happen tonight. The warnings had been there, and all of the careful planning out the window now.

Murmurings of _world-renowned_ and _prime danseur_ and _ballet genius_ were being thrown around the crowd among the louder questions.

“Are you scoping out new talent?” Another reporter with large eyes stuck a microphone close to his face. Yuuri backed up to avoid being hit. He could forgive that, there were more people coming around to him and it would be hard to move.

Hard to move. Hard to breathe. It was so hot in here.

“Mr. Katsuki,” a more urgently pressed woman stole front and center, notepad at the ready. “Why did you leave the stage so abruptly this spring?”

_Why did you let us down?_

“I’m— I didn’t—” Yuuri stammered. His vision was blurry even with his glasses on. That, and his hair was down, he was hardly wearing a proper suit; nothing about his stage persona was present. Without that layer of protection, the vulnerability was wide open. He tried to scramble together something he would have said months ago, back when he was more composed.

Back when he hadn’t become a stripper and then pornstar to hide his shame.

“Why have you been so secretive the past few months?” Was it just Yuuri or were the people more densely packed than before? Faces smeared and he tried to take a step back but couldn’t, his foot stepping onto someone else’s. Yuuri took in a sharp breath that pierced his lungs, now stuck in between the blocked aisle and a thin wall before a bottomless pit and his legs were restricted to one or the other. Nowhere else to go.

_What do you think you’re doing?_

Yuuri’s heartbeat raged inside his chest, echoing in his ears. “I’m not— sorry, I can’t—”

But, naturally, they heard _I’m not sorry, I can’t._ Yuuri couldn’t tell which questions were real and which were being antagonistic, or whether the two traits coincided, as both were filtering into the static. The sea of people floated in and out of focus, his glasses still utterly useless. He squinted automatically, trying to shut out any unnecessary information, but the noise— _the noise_ — it couldn’t be stopped and it was _so loud_.

“Are you helping recruit for your company?”

_Are you demoted?_

“Any current projects you’re working on?”

_Do you really think you can still dance?_

Cameras flashed. Microphones buzzed. Notepads scribbled. People shouted in his ears and Yuuri wanted to buckle and collapse under the pressure.

“Katsuki, sir!” _You failed to win the Benois de la Danse_ —

“Are you—”

— _a failure—_

“—looking toward another competition soon?”

_Can you come back to your cage now?_

“Are you looking to coach or teach?”

“I— ah,” Yuuri remembered the foot he’d stepped on. It was Viktor’s, right? Viktor. He could hide behind Viktor, use Viktor as his anchor.

_Aren’t you already using him?_

Yuuri couldn’t tell if he was turning his head, the lights too bright and his muscles too rigid. Where was Viktor? Couldn’t he see the danger Yuuri was in?

“Do you see competition in Yuri Plisetsky?”

Yuuri grabbed onto that name, chose to focus on it instead. He could buffer time with words he already knew how to say. “He’s certainly talented—” he managed to choke out.

“How do you know Yuri Plisetsky?” Another question fired back, and the grasp Yuuri had slipped out of his control.

He couldn’t just tell them he knew Yurio through a pornstar. That much was obvious, but that was also the only thing his brain supplied him with and he was fighting back enough already.

Yuuri had to get out of here before he let the answers show plain on his face. He ducked his head and excused himself, but to no avail. They were crowding tighter, or so it seemed, and his breath was ragged.

“Viktor, we—”

“And who is this here with you tonight?”

_Are you here with a pornstar?_

Yuuri didn’t know where to look anymore. “N-No, he’s— this is— um—”

_Is the great Yuuri Katsuki filming porn?_

“I’m not—”

_No, no, no, no._

Yuuri felt a weight spread over his shoulders and a sudden warmth stopped his shivering. There was a gentle pressure on his back that pushed him toward the crowd and instinctively he fought against it until the sight of them was blocked by something soft and black. Not entirely put together to reason through it, his hands gripped the material to protect himself. The pressure continued and Yuuri cautioned a step. Then there was an arm around his waist and someone speaking over him but not to him, and Yuuri shrank further into his darkened refuge.

He was being led somewhere, which was easy enough to gather from the fact that his feet were moving and the noises were subsiding. The night air blasted his face, curling around wherever it could find space between the fabrics he wore, and only then did he chance dropping what he’d been using to hide his face.

It was the yellowed stage lighting that served as the entranceway to the performance hall that told him he was holding Viktor’s jacket. Yuuri thought Viktor had already left.

Looking up, Yuuri saw a Viktor with the most serious face he’d ever seen as he scanned the streets. Viktor’s eyes turned back to him, wide and close to frantic. He was probably terrified by how Yuuri acted, to the point that he wanted them to leave. Yuuri didn’t blame him if that was the case.

Yuuri put on the jacket properly, glad to have some shield from the winds that had picked up now that the sky was completely dark. But as his hand dropped to his side, Viktor’s caught it and tugged them forward, down the street and in between cars and in turns and curves that Yuuri didn’t remember taking in order to get to the hall in the first place.

The pink car came into view, easily visible in the dark, and Yuuri was relieved for a split second before being filled with worry again. Someone would definitely find them in a car like that, making a louder statement than anything of what just happened.

“They shouldn’t be able to find us now,” Viktor assured him like he knew Yuuri’s thoughts.

Yuuri’s feet cemented to the sidewalk as Viktor walked on, their joined hands resisting the growing distance before they broke apart.

Viktor turned around almost immediately, confusion spreading on his face. “Yuuri?”

“Don’t—” Yuuri started, but realized he didn’t know how to finish it.

“What?” Viktor stepped closer, eyes roaming the area before landing back on Yuuri. “Don’t what? Get you away from that? Are they always that bad?”

Yuuri couldn’t look at another pair of eyes without believing they would zero in on him and pin him to the earth. But he knew he couldn’t escape the fact that Viktor had just seen the worst side of him. Exhausted, he couldn’t think around it, and it wore him down to the very bone. “They were wrong…”

“‘They were wrong,’” Viktor copied again, caught off guard and exasperated, but he tried to hide it with strong, sure hands on both of Yuuri’s arms. The heat was a trap. “I mean, crowding anyone like that is awful. But wrong about what?”

Yuuri broke away from Viktor’s touch, not wanting to look weak again by falling back into his arms despite how badly he wanted to. He was just so tired, so tired and so, so angry with himself. He knew better than to handle the situation like he had.

“They—” Yuuri started, too frustrated to continue the thought, “I don’t want—”

“Yuuri?” Viktor tried to step closer again, hand stretched out. Yuuri smacked it away without the intention to hurt. Viktor froze.

“Ballet was my _life,_ Viktor!” Yuuri’s voice cracked on the word, but it was out. It was out. His hands curled into fists to stop himself from lashing out. “Is…”

“I know,” Viktor breathed out, keeping his distance. “I know, Yuuri. I know it is. You don’t have to convince me or anyone else of that.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. He should believe Viktor. His right mind would have told him to do that, but he was still feeling the aftershocks and still hopelessly distraught.

“I don’t want to just fade away,” Yuuri choked out with his head low.

There was no sound except for the muted snowfall around them. Even the wind was still, had been for some time, but was more noticeable now. There was a ringing in Yuuri’s ear that served as an undercurrent to the truth he’d just let slip out. The utter silence told him that Viktor was likely to leave.

But Yuuri didn’t want Viktor to leave, plain and simple. And he hated it, because he just figured that out tonight only for it to be overshadowed by the one thing he loved for most of his life. Loved and lost. He knew what he would choose to keep if he had the choice, but now even that seemed out of his grasp, and he _hated_ it.

A footfall, a soft crunch of snow on the sidewalk, caused Yuuri to glance up from the boot and see Viktor there with the sweetest smile on his lips. It was the kind of smile that Yuuri didn’t feel he deserved, or at the very least believed that Viktor was faking because no one wanted to deal with a mess like him.

“Judging by their reaction at seeing you,” Viktor began in the quietest of whispers, testing the waters, “trust me, I think you’ve done the opposite of fade away. I don’t think you ever could. So for now, let’s get you home, okay? You can rest and think it all through in the morning.”

That… sounded good. That sounded heavenly, to slip into his warm bed and forget. “O-Okay,” Yuuri acquiesced as he moved forward, although his mind was still buzzing, “okay. Just. Just make sure they don’t see you.”

They had already walked over to the car, both standing on Yuuri’s side, Viktor’s hand on the car door, when he stopped. He looked at Yuuri with those dangerously ethereal eyes. “Me?”

Yuuri took a moment to recognize his word choice. “Well, _us_. I meant us. You _and_ me.”

Viktor retracted his hand from the door and put them in his pockets, leaning on one foot and watching Yuuri like he was waiting for some sort of dubious punchline to a bad joke. His eyes flitted over Yuuri’s figure, his lips twisting one way then another.

Finally, he spoke. “As in, you don’t want them to catch you with a pornstar?”

“No!” Yuuri said too quickly. “No, no, nonono, that’s not—” but Yuuri knew it was a lie as soon as he voiced it. He’d been deathly terrified that someone would discover Viktor not through any concern of Viktor’s reputation but rather his own, that someone would recognize _Yuuri_ as the pornstar through Viktor. And that wasn’t fair to Viktor, but it was true. He didn’t want to lie to him, not anymore than he had to. “I mean, yes, but— no. Viktor, I—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Viktor dismissed with a wave, opening the door for Yuuri anyway. “I get it. Like I said, you’ll think it through in the morning.”

In a stupefied daze, Yuuri sat in the car and Viktor closed the door behind him. The seconds were deafening in Yuuri’s ears while he sat alone in the car, so loud and oppressive that it was too much for him. As soon as Viktor opened the door and sat on his side, Yuuri’s hand snapped forward to stop him from turning the key. “Viktor, I’m—”

Viktor’s other hand covered Yuuri’s just as quickly, although with far more finesse. “I know, Yuuri,” Viktor’s fingers curled around Yuuri’s hand until he was holding it instead of trying to pry it off of him, all with the utmost care and consideration that Yuuri still felt he shouldn’t even be offered. Viktor looked like he was about to say something more, but decided against it. He brought Yuuri’s hand in his closer, squeezed lightly, and let go. Their skin brushed longer than necessary before slipping away.

Viktor turned the key, the engine roared, and he drove.

The silence continued, quieter than before, softer, too. Almost calming. Not quite content.

For the first handful of minutes that spilled from Yuuri’s fingers, he did little but watch the light-up display flicker with every minute that passed, the number before lost to history. He followed the curves of the car’s interior, watching the lights glaze over every few seconds. It was like before, on their way over, but more subdued. The flame Yuuri had felt sputter to life was now embers, still glowing but close to extinguishing.

When Yuuri built up the courage, his eyes went to Viktor’s fingers, where they were wrapped loosely around the steering wheel. He inhaled, exhaled, and moved further up Viktor’s arms, muscles visible through the black fabric of his shirt. His collar was loosened and the purple tie hung around his neck, low but knotted. His jaw, at first rigid, was now lax and composed. There wasn’t a smile on his lips, but there was no trace of a frown either.

Yuuri stared at his face the longest of all, admiring everything and nothing and thinking about all of the things that happened that night. All of them circled back to Viktor. How much he loved the performances, how much he wanted to be back on the stage, how much he actually enjoyed time in the _other_ kind of studio, how much Viktor had nurtured him, done for him, it all fell into place. Yuuri was beyond thankful for it all, for Viktor being a catalyst, an anchor, an inspiration.

But even Yuuri knew there was a difference between those feelings and the ones he was starting to nurse in his heart.

In any other circumstance, Yuuri would have asked Phichit what he should do regarding Viktor, but he knew precisely what Phichit would say. In fact, Phichit would say that he’d been right all along.

And for once, Yuuri had to agree with him.

Yuuri really liked Viktor.

Naturally, it was a scary thought; he’d been warring with all night. But he’d admitted it to himself, so really, the hard part was over.

Trying to figure out what to do with these feelings for a pornstar, however, was another hurdle, one that he had crashed into and brought Viktor down with him.

Yuuri was also an asshole.

“Do you always space out during car rides?” Viktor asked out of nowhere.

Yuuri blinked when something obstructed his vision of Viktor’s face, only to come to realize that they were in front of Yuuri’s apartment building. Yuuri’s cheeks flared redder than a traffic light, but he wasn’t about to turn away. He’d done enough running. “S-Sorry.”

Viktor huffed a breath that seemed more like a laugh as his lips turned upward. “Don’t be, it’s kinda cute.”

“I-I mean…” Yuuri fought to keep still, “I’m sorry about what I said— back there. It… it wasn’t fair to you, to what you do, or what you’ve done for me. All that you’ve done for me. I’m so sorry,” Yuuri said in a rush, hoping to cover up his trepidation.

Viktor’s lips parted, but whether it was in confusion, amazement, an effort to speak, or a flustered combination of the three, Yuuri couldn’t be sure. He could be reading him entirely wrong, he wouldn’t be surprised. Viktor closed his mouth and shook his head languidly, a small smile replacing his indecision. “Apology accepted,” Viktor said, his hand reaching out to rest on Yuuri’s lap reassuringly.

They were both quiet, enjoying the moment of equal footing and lost for words. This time, whatever real or imagined ill that had been between them had dissipated, leaving them as they were: two men inside the world of a garish pink car. Viktor’s hand didn’t leave his lap, and Yuuri wondered if Viktor ever intended to let go. If Yuuri had any say in it, he was certain of his answer as his fingers entwined with Viktor’s.

When Yuuri returned his gaze upward, he could have sworn he was looking at some sort of mirror. Viktor’s cheeks looked as bright as his car’s exterior, and Yuuri felt that flame spark again. His skin itched pleasantly, and if he was sure that Phichit wasn’t going to be home soon, he would have invited Viktor inside. Seeing as that was not an option, Yuuri went for the next best thing he had the courage to do.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” Yuuri said before pressing his lips to Viktor’s cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. He held it for a moment before leaning away, heart pounding in his chest, head, ears, fingertips, everywhere but in his chest where it should have been.

Viktor just sat there, as if taking it all in. Yuuri worried he had misread Viktor the whole time as Viktor’s hand reached up to touch the corner of his lips. His eyes captured Yuuri’s, the look demure, matching his coy smile. “You surprise me, Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri smirked. “It’s what I do best.”

Viktor returned the expression. “Goodnight, my Yuuri.”

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri was required to recount the entire evening to Phichit, and had to do so before he was allowed to have breakfast— Phichit held the cereal bowl away from him to ensure that rule held. Although Yuuri wanted to ask Phichit the same thing, since there was no way Phichit stayed in all night, he didn’t ask. He was too busy answering Phichit’s incessant questions. Everything from the moment Viktor closed the door behind them to the moment Yuuri walked out of the car alone wearing Viktor’s Armani jacket. Phichit had naturally been watching from the window, although according to his own testimony his phone was not in his hand, nor were any photos taken.

Of course, Phichit became more ecstatic to hear that Yuuri wanted to pick up his practices again and rekindle his love for ballet. Thousands of hugs and hundreds of pecks on his cheeks and head later, Yuuri finally escaped with some dignity left.

His phone chose that moment to ring, Yakov’s name glaring at him expectantly. Yuuri, in a better, well-rested mood, answered with only the slightest of hesitation after remembering the looks Yakov had given him last night.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Yuuri, do you have a moment?” Yakov’s voice came through the tinny speaker, straight to the point.

“Sure,” Yuuri attempted natural professionalism— and probably failed, “what is it you need?”

“It’ll be about filming this upcoming week,” Yakov stated.

Yuuri waited until he decided Yakov was looking for some sort of response. “Okay.”

“I’m not having you film with Vitya,” Yakov continued hastily, “I don’t want to cut your hours entirely, though, so I’ll have you come in as a fluffer for a couple shoots. Is that something you’re comfortable with?”

The drop of hours was a concern. Yuuri had done the math earlier; he would have to stay working for _SV Studios_ until he left for Japan. He simply wouldn’t have enough money to support installing his previous training regiment, which subsequently meant quitting the studio in order to have enough time in his day. He had already paid the one-way flight ticket, had the receipt email in his inbox since the day he made the decision. There simply wasn’t enough money in his account to last him without any income for the next few weeks.

Not seeing Viktor to the extent he had been was also a concern, more for his pathetic growing attachment than his professionalism. Arguably, Viktor had been teaching him the ropes of the porn industry, so Yuuri could pretend it had been a strictly professional matter. He nearly believed it.

The two concerns put together created another problem entirely, one he had known would crop up, but he swept it under the rug. No need to dirty his hands just yet when he didn’t completely understand his options.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered, “yeah, that’s fine. No filming at all?”  If that were the case, he may as well take advantage of the sudden amount of free time to actually train again. At the same time, though, he needed that sizeable, reliable paycheck.

Yakov hummed and hawed over the line. “There’s an opening later in the week with Phichit, but I understand you two are roommates and you mentioned not being comfortable with—”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, not caring for the moment as long as it meant hours, “okay, great. I’ll do that.”

Yakov was quiet. “Alright. I’ll send you two the scripts. Whatever preparations you two do in the meantime is none of my business.”

Yuuri couldn’t hide the knowing smile that pulled at his lips. “Thanks, Yakov.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to make sure you guys are aware of one last thing! The next two chapters contain Chris/Viktor and Yuuri/Phichit, both filmed. If that bothers you to the point that you won't read, let me know! 
> 
> Not going to lie, I've been really nervous about this one, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3


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